No Place I'd Rather Be
by skygirl55
Summary: When Richard Castle learns his publisher hired a writing consultant to help him complete his latest novel he's insulted-until he meets her. Dr. Kate Beckett was merely looking for a summer job between semesters, but could three weeks with the famous writer might be more than she bargained for? Caskett AU.
1. Chapter 1

**When Richard Castle learns his publisher hired a writing consultant to help him complete his latest novel he's insulted-until he meets her. Dr. Kate Beckett was merely looking for a summer job between semesters, but could three weeks with the famous writer might be more than she bargained for?**

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_A/N: The inspiration for this story came from 2 sources. First, my best friend is actually a literature professor just like Kate in this story. Second, I read the story "Back to Where We Have Never Been" by caffinate-me on this site and it sort of inspired me to create something similar, yet definitely with my own twist. I hope you guys enjoy it; there are 22 chapters._

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**One**

"Richard Castle, are you listening to me?"

Gina Cowell stood across from the man seated at the large cherry desk. He wore a t-shirt depicting a super hero wearing gold and red with a glowing orb in his chest. He held a medieval action figure in each of his hands and was pretending to make one stab the other with a small plastic sword; a game over three decades too young for him.

"Gina," he sighed, not even bothering to look up at her. "You should know by now that I'm rarely if ever listening to you."

With a growl, Gina unfolded her arms from her chest and stalked towards the desk, her stilettos making sharp taps against the wooden floor. She reached across the desk, grasped one of the figures by the head and wrenched it from his grasp. With a whine, he looked up at her. "This is serious. Black Pawn is serious."

Castle sighed and tossed the remaining action figure back onto the desk. He laced his fingers together behind his head and leaned back in the swivel chair. "Black Pawn is always serious about their threats, but they never follow through." He cocked his head to the side and continued. "Haven't you heard the story about the boy who cried wolf?"

Pushing herself away from the desk, Gina began to pace the three foot square open area in the room. "Just like everything else, this is just a joke to you, isn't it Rick? Well Black Pawn isn't laughing. Your manuscript was due a month ago."

"And you had it a month ago," he informed her simply.

Gina stopped walking and stabbed a well-manicured index finger in his direction. "Except I was horrible, even by your standards."

"Hey!" Castle sat upright so quickly that the feet of his chair rattled against the floor. He glared across the desk at his publisher's representative slash ex-wife. That cautionary tale about mixing business with pleasure? Well Richard Castle had learned the hard way.

They had a staring contest that lasted thirty seconds before Castle blinked, relenting. "Okay, they didn't like the manuscript. Fine. What was wrong with it? Maybe I can fix it."

She dismissed the idea with the flip of her hand as her pacing continued. "It's beyond fixing."

"Nothing is beyond fixing. It just needs a tweak or two here or there."

Gina gazed at her former spouse incredulously. "A tweak or two? The exact words of the editor were 'If we publish this both his reputation and ours will be irreparably tarnished.'"

Castle grimaced inwardly. So maybe coming up with a story idea after a forty-eight-hour _The X Files _binge-watch was not the best idea. Supernatural wasn't exactly his wheelhouse anyway.

"Don't you have anything else?" Gina asked with her ever-present impatient tone.

"Sure." He responded with utmost casualty. He stood from his desk chair, arched his back in a cat-like stretch, and then padded his way out of the office. Though it was almost four o'clock on a Thursday, he was still wearing the shorts and t-shirt he slept in the night before and, now that he thought about it, the night before that as well. Pulling up the neck of his shirt, dipped his nose and sniffed. Perhaps after Gina left he should shower. And shave.

Glancing back over his shoulder to see that the sharp dressed woman was following him on his voyage to the kitchen, he tapped his temple with his left index finger. "I got a million ideas right up here."

"Any of them written down?"

He didn't respond. As he peered into the refrigerator, Gina rested her elbow against the kitchen counter. It had been over half a decade since she called the loft home, and with each passing year she felt less and less comfortable relaxing in Rick's territory. She knew he wouldn't have minded if she took a seat and softened her tone with him, but that just wasn't her way. In this instance, Richard Castle was just like any other client she needed results from, and results she would get.

"What's the matter, Rick? Don't you like your cushy lifestyle? Your Manhattan apartment? Do you really want us to take that from you?"

Castle pulled his head from the refrigerator, can of soda in his hand, and slammed the door shut a bit harder than necessary. "You can't take my home, Gina; you don't own that."

Gina pursed her lips and waggled her head from side to side. "No, but we can take back that ten million dollar advance you were given based on the promise of a new novel. That'll put a dent even in your bank account, Ricky."

He smiled a poisonous smile at her. "Not as big of a dent as you take every month." Her expression flattened as he cracked open the soda can and took a long swig. Putting the drink aside, he pointed at her and then folded his arms over his chest, leaning against the island with his hip. "That's it—that's why you care isn't it? Because what is the alimony percent of zero dollars of income? Wait, let me get my calculator…" He made a move to reach in his back pocket, but then smirked at her.

Gina let out a phony-sounding chuckle. "That's right, Rick. Have laugh—have a good laugh at my expense. But believe it or not there is a part of me—a very small part of me, but still a part—that genuinely cares about your well-being and if you do not have a brand new best seller to Black Pawn by the end of summer they will terminate your contract, and, though you might not believe me, I genuinely don't want that to happen."

He took a step towards her and leaned both hands on the opposite side of the counter on which her elbow rested. Lowering his head slightly so they were eye-to-eye, he said, "Oh I believe you; then what would you do for money?"

Her eyes narrowed. "You're an asshole."

"Thank you," he said, placing his hand over his heart and lowering his chin as though he were deeply touched.

Pushing herself away from the counter, Gina took half a dozen steps back towards the office before she turned back to face him. "Do you have anything I can read?"

Castle snatched his soda can off the counter and walked back towards the office. "No, but hey thanks for the deadline extension."

"Well I'm glad you're thanking me now because I don't think you will be in a little while."

Castle stopped walking so abruptly that Gina all but ran into the back of him. When he whipped around, his six-foot-one frame towered over her despite her stilettos. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Pursing her lips and folding her arms she informed him, "It means your deadline extension comes with strings."

"Which are?"

"You must use a freelance writing consultant to ensure that your next manuscript isn't a steaming pile of dog shit."

Castle blinked at her. "What the hell is a freelance writing consultant?"

She shrugged and dropped her hands to her sides. "Exactly what it sounds like – a writing consultant…who works freelance."

With an eye roll, Castle returned to his desk. "Gina, I have written two dozen best sellers without a consultant—I don't need a consultant."

"Says the man who hasn't written anything above trashy grocery store romance level quality in almost a year."

"Hey," he began sharply. "I did not use the phrase 'burning loins' once in my last book."

"Maybe you should have," she retorted. "_50 Shades_ is selling copies by the thousands."

He blinked at her. "I'd rather have my thumbnails pulled out."

She grinned poisonously. "But then how would you write?" He gave her a mocking expression before popping open the top of his laptop and opening his latest Word document outline. Perhaps, he figured, if he appeared busy, Gina would simply leave. Instead, she walked closer to him so that the thighs of her extremely tight business suit brushed against the front of his desk.

"Her name is Dr. Katherine Beckett and-"

"Doctor?"

"PhD which is more than I can say for you."

He held up his hands in defense. "Hey, you know me – traditional schooling cramps my style."

"Whatever. We're meeting with her Monday at 3:30; I'll text you the address after I confirm."

Castle rested his left elbow on the desk and propped his chin up with his fist as he considered this prospect. "I take it I don't have a choice."

"No, you do not."

With a grumble, he conceded. "Fine. At least tell me if she's some sixty-five-year-old battle axe whose wardrobe hasn't been updated since the Carter administration."

Gina shrugged. "I don't know; I've never met her." Castle grumbled, but she ignored him as she turned and walked towards the exit. "Remember: 3:30 Monday. And Rick?" She paused and turned back to look at him. "Please at least try not to destroy your entire career."

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Kate Beckett stepped into her apartment, shut the door, and leaned back against it with a sigh of relief that only the end of another semester could bring. Granted, that day was only the end of the five week summer semester and thus the sigh was proportionally smaller than a full sixteen week semester sigh, but it was a relief nonetheless. She dropped her keys into the bowl on the table near the door, toed off her sensible heels and padded her way into the kitchen. There, a bespectacled man waited for her.

"Ahh I thought I heard you," the five-foot-ten figure with a mop of black hair on his head smiled. He stepped out of the tiny kitchen and greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. "How was the last day?"

"Fantastic; it was the last day," Kate replied with a smile.

"Did your students shower you with gifts?"

She let out a light laugh. "Uh, no, but they didn't hit me with their books as they left so I'll take that as a win."

"Yes," the man said as he pushed a pair of dark rimmed frames further up the bridge of his nose. "I suppose that—ah." He was interrupted by the whistle of a tea kettle on their miniature stove.

As her boyfriend tended to his beverage, Kate walked over to the messy pile of mail taking up most of the space on their two-seater kitchen table.

"Ah yes," he sighed, leaning against the refrigerator as he sipped the brew as though it had originated from the Fountain of Life. "That really is perfect."

"New tea?" she asked, not even looking at him.

"Yes. I found this new store today—you can mix your own leaves to make a Zen-filled brew. It's really-"

"Paul," Kate interrupted as she pulled a receipt from beneath a Chinese food ad. "Did you spend eighty-nine dollars on tea?" She glanced over at her boyfriend with horror, but he seemed too engrossed in his drink to notice. "Paul!"

"Wha-ah, yes; yes the tea was a little expensive but-"

"A little expens…" her high pitched voice ran out from her own shock. "Eight-nine dollars! Did you pay someone to pick the leaves specifically for you?"

"Kate, they're imported."

"From where? Mars?"

Paul opened his mouth to retort, but then his gaze softened. "What's really the problem here, Kate?"

She slammed the receipt back on the table and folded her arms; she hated when he patronized her. "The problem, Paul, is that we should be saving money right now for the move. We talked about this!" His coffee addition she'd made peace with. Hell, if she couldn't have the occasional Starbucks to get it through the day, she probably would have murdered a student or two long ago, but eighty-nine dollars for a matchbox sized container of tea was completely outrageous not to mention entirely out of their already scant budget.

"Oh…" Paul sighed, leaving the kitchen, tea mug in hand. "About that. The landlord called and we're not going to be able to move in August first like we planned."

Kate followed him out into the sitting room slash bedroom of their miniscule Manhattan residence. "What?! Why?"

Paul blinked at her. "There was a fire."

"A WHAT?!"

"Kate," Paul said in the same warning tone he always used when her voice began to approach too high a decibel.

She cleaned her throat and repeated her inquiry at a more reasonable volume. "What?"

"Evidently the current tenant got a little reckless with some bacon and caught the kitchen cabinets on fire. The damage isn't major, but bad enough that it won't be ready for us."

"So…so what are we going to do? That's barely a month away!"

"Ah, but we're in luck!" Paul sat down on one end of their loveseat and she joined him on the other. "Remember that other place we looked at while we were out there? The one across the street from that Greek place we ate at? It's still available!"

Kate thought for a moment, recalling their whirlwind tour of eight houses in a twenty-four hour period from three months prior. "Was that the one with the white cabinets and ugly green tiles in the bathrooms?"

Paul's face fell. "I liked those tiles."

"But Paul," she began, scooting a bit closer to him. "That place was almost a thousand more a month than the place we rented."

"But it's so close to campus!"

"Hence it being almost a thousand more a month!"

Paul finished off his tea before setting the cup aside and nodding. "I know that's not ideal, but, Kate, we really don't have much of a choice. Like you said, we're moving in one month and look at how many places we crossed off the list. At least we know this place doesn't smell horrible or have mold. Besides, think how convenient it will be to be able to walk to campus. Remember, there are no subways in Illinois."

Kate forced herself to mirror his smile. How could she have forgotten? She was only reminded about the lack of convenient public transportation in her future home every time she stepped on a subway or bus in the city. "I know that will be nice, I'm just-"

He held up his hand. "I know; I know. You're concerned about the money, but honey, you really don't need to be. My salary will be more than enough. Which is why I already told them we'd take it."

She stood off the couch. "Without talking to me?"

"Honey," he said, standing as well. "I didn't want to risk losing the house—then what would we have done?"

She nodded, relenting to that point. "Okay…well, it's just a one-year lease right? I mean, we'll be able to look for something better—less expensive—for next year right?"

"Sure, if we find this place doesn't fit, but, really, I think you're going to love it." He smiled at her before returning to the kitchen.

Kate stood in the middle of the apartment chewing on her bottom lip as she processed the new information. She'd already begun organizing the new house in her mind as far as where they would put their current furniture and what furniture they'd need to purchase. Now, she'd have to start all over, which wasn't the biggest problem in the world, except their furniture budget would be significantly reduced. Which, she supposed, was fine; who needs chairs anyway?

"Uh, Paul," she began as a thought hit her. "What did the landlord say about our deposit? I mean, we're getting it back, right?"

"Ummm," Paul hedged as he walked into the room. "Honestly, I didn't ask; I'll call him back tomorrow. I'm sure we'll get the deposit back."

"Or we're out almost four thousand dollars," she countered, knowing the deposit was two months' rent upfront. Paul said nothing. "Well, I guess it's good that I got a call today from Black Pawn."

Paul's brow furrowed. "The publisher? What do they want?"

"To offer me a job."

Paul chuckled and scooped up his laptop from the end of the bed. "Well I hope you told them no."

"No, no—it's just a summer job," she clarified. "Three weeks in July."

"What for?"

"A writing consultant for some quasi-famous mystery writer having trouble with his latest book."

Paul arched a curious eyebrow. "Did they tell you who?"

Kate bobbed her head. "Richard Castle."

"Never heard of him."

"Well, he's one of Black Pawn's golden boys, so of course I heard of him since I worked there," she explained. "But also my mother's read his stuff for years, so I'd actually heard of him before my job as well."

Paul pursed his lips as a distasteful expression crossed his face. "I never understood your mother's dreadful taste in literature."

Kate laughed. "Neither have I."

"Are you sure you're going to be okay with this job? I mean, reading some crappy mystery story?" Paul shuddered, as though the thought was akin to a three week commitment to work at a sewage processing plant.

"For seven hundred and fifty dollars a week I'll read and critique whatever that man hands me," she stated simply.

"Seven fifty? Damn; I'd do that too!" he laughed.

"No," she countered, walking over and slipping her hands around his waist. "You wouldn't. You couldn't get through ten pages without throwing the book down in disgust and complaining about each characters lack of social morality."

He laughed and looped his arms around her back. "True; you know me too well."

"Yes," she said, kissing him, "I do."


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Thank you all so much for your reviews. Some of them were kind of mixed so I hope you guys keep enjoying this story._

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**Two**

Promptly at three-thirty p.m. on the last Monday in June, Gina Cowell arrived at one of the last non-chain coffee houses in midtown not overrun by hipsters. Placing her Dior sunglasses atop her head, she scanned the room for the woman she was to be meeting. Of course the author was nowhere in sight; to him, ten minutes late was actually early, but she guessed the professor would be prompt.

Glancing around, she saw only two unaccompanied women in the café: a girl approximately in her late teens wearing red Beats headphones and a blue streak in her blonde hair and woman around the age of thirty with chestnut flowing locks and striking eyes to match. "Oh boy," she said under her breath, knowing that the professor was about the furthest cry from sixty-five and matronly as she could imagine. That, she decided immediately, was going to be a problem for her cad of an ex-husband.

Gina straightened the blazer on her power suit as she approached. "Excuse me." The younger woman looked up at her. "Are you Dr. Beckett?"

Kate stood and extended her hand. "You must be Ms. Cowell."

"Gina, please," she said, shaking Kate's hand firmly.

"Kate," she countered.

Gina placed an order for a chi tea and then joined Kate at a table by the window. "I just want to thank you so much for coming."

Kate chuckled lightly as she took a sip of her latte. "I'm thinking I should be the one thanking you for this opportunity."

Gina smiled stiffly and her brows momentarily rose. "Why don't you wait until you meet him before you thank me," she suggested.

Kate's expression faltered. "Oh?"

Gina clasped her hands together and rested them against the wooden table. "I'm going to be honest with you, Kate; Richard Castle is not an easy person to work with. Quite frankly, he's a giant pain in the ass, and I guarantee at one point in the next three weeks you're going to want to punch him in the face. Just try not to."

"I-uh-oh-okay," Kate stammered, not sure how else to respond. That certainly was one hell of a way to begin a new job. But then again, she figured, no matter how bad it was it was only three weeks. How bad could it possibly get in three weeks?

"So you remember the story I told you on the phone, right? What I told Rick?" Gina asked.

"How I've been a freelance writing consultant for a number of years and this is my main profession," Kate repeated. Gina nodded. "Yes, but I-"

"Well hello there!"

Kate was interrupted by the entrance of a tall, broad-shouldered man wearing sunglasses and three-day-old stubble on his face. He wore a short-sleeved button-down plaid shirt, jeans, and Reebok running shoes, though from the hint of roundness beneath the buttons of his shirt, Kate didn't suppose he was much of a marathoner.

Both women stood from the table and Kate extended her hand as he approached. He pulled his sunglasses off with his left hand and clasped hers with his right. "Richard Castle. You must be the doctor."

"Dr. Kate Beckett," she nodded, shaking his hand firmly. She went to move away, but he held her hand firm for a moment longer. She gazed down at their touching flesh, almost surprised at how warm his hand felt in hers. "It's, ah," she cleared her throat when their hands finally separated, "nice to meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine, I assure you," he said with a wink.

"Nice of you to show up, Rick."

"Thanks for bathing in perfume, Gina," he retorted, not looking at her. Kate managed to pass off a laugh as a cough as she hid her face behind her cardboard latte cup. The scent emanating off the publisher was overpowering and she was, quite frankly, glad she at least had the table separating them.

Unfazed by the comment, Gina asked, "Can I get you a coffee?"

"I'm good thanks." Castle set his sunglasses down on the table before taking the seat beside Gina, across from the lovely PhD. If he had any preconceived notions about what a writing consultant with a doctorate would look like, Kate Beckett was certainly blowing them out of the water. With her eyes and cheekbones, she would have more easily fit in with a hoard of runway models than a pack of bloodthirsty publishers like the coven of vampires Gina belonged to.

"So, Dr. Beckett, why don't you-"

Castle's query was interrupted by the shrill ring of Gina's iPhone. She excused herself from the table and stepped outside onto the sidewalk to answer the call. Castle eyed her suspiciously as she went before turning back to Kate with a smile. "As I was saying, Dr. Beckett, why don't you tell me how long you've been a consultant? Gina left that little detail out of my briefing."

"Ah," Kate let out an airy chuckle as she tapped her fingers along the edge of her cup. "About ten minutes, actually."

Castle blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Look, Mr. Castle, your publisher seems hell bent on lying to you, but I'm not that kind of person, so here's the deal: I'm not a freelance writing consultant—I don't even know if that's a real thing."

"You're not a-" His brow knit in confusion. "Then…what are you?"

"I'm actually a literature professor, but I used to work for Black Pawn and I know people there so I'm sort of doing a favor; it's a long story," she added with a gentle smile.

Castle arched his eyebrow as he glanced out to the sidewalk, where Gina was making a wild chopping gesture with one of her hands. This had her stench all over it. Turning back to his table companion, he asked, "So why the charade?"

"Ms. Cowell didn't think you'd agree unless you believed I was a legitimate consultant," Kate confessed with an almost embarrassed expression.

Castle leaned back in his chair and dropped his hands to his lap. "Well she would have been correct in that assumption, but," he paused to smile at her. "Now that I've seen you that won't be a problem."

Kate sat up a bit straighter and pulled her hands to rest on the edge of the table. "What is that supposed to mean?"

He leaned forward, resting his forearm against the table, and deepening his tone. "It means you're a beautiful woman, Ms. Beckett. You could sit across from me and read the phone book and I'd still pay attention – at least for a couple hours." He added with a know-it-all smirk.

Kate felt some heat creep into her ears at his words and his grin. She'd worked at Black Pawn long enough to hear the rumors. Richard Castle: mystery writer, millionaire, playboy. So far, he was proving the last one to be quite true.

_Seven fifty a week_, she reminded herself as she forced a smile and took another sip of her drink.

After a moment of surveying her, he continued. "So you're a professor? In the city?" He waited until she nodded before continuing his interrogation. "What's your focus?"

"Nineteenth Century British literature."

He let that sink in for a moment; he didn't even know what that meant. "And you're? What? Looking for a summer job?"

Kate nodded again. "You could say that. To be quite honest, I'm always looking for ways to make extra cash in the summer and this deal wasn't bad at all for three weeks."

He arched his eyebrows. "Three weeks?"

She bobbed her head. "That's what I was told."

Castle leaned back in his seat and considered this a moment. He wondered if that meant Gina had great faith in him or in the lovely professor's ability to whip him into shape; he decided he didn't want to know which scenario was correct.

"Sorry about that," Gina said when she returned to the table. "I trust you two have taken a few moments to get acquainted, so let's get down to business." Gina paused to pull several contract documents from her leather briefcase and set them on the table between them.

"Beginning Monday, July 7th, Dr. Beckett will begin her three week tenure as Richard Castle's writing consultant. Dr. Beckett, as you've worked for Black Pawn before, I'm sure you'll be alright with signing these confidentiality agreements."

"Of course," Kate said, taking the pen from Gina, "But why are we waiting until Monday?"

"Because this week is a holiday week, Kate." Castle said. "Our nation's birthday—you may have heard of it—and I'm going on vacation."

Kate capped the pen, set it down on the table and looked over at him. "You're a multi-millionaire. Isn't every day vacation for you?"

"Ohh, I like her," Gina said with a smile, picking up the agreement Kate finished signing.

Castle gave her a patronizing smile. "Not bad for a professor."

Gina's jaw dropped slightly. "Dr. Beckett, I thought-"

Kate shot her eyes in the direction of the publisher. "Yes, I know what you thought, Ms. Cowell, but as I tried to tell you before Mr. Castle arrived, I'm not comfortable with your charade. I'm more of a…cards on the table type of girl."

"Well I can appreciate that," Castle said. "And you can call me Rick or just Castle. No need to be so formal if we're working together. And, as long as we're playing the 'cards on the table game' I have a question."

She arched her eyebrow at him. "Oh?"

"Yes." He leaned in and studied her face intently. "What makes a literature professor think she's qualified to be a consultant for a professional writer such as myself?"

Kate's lips twisted at his words. So that's how he was going to play it? Well, she had no problem with that. She rested her forearm on the table and said with utmost casualty, "Well, I'm pretty sure the two years I spent at Black Pawn as a junior editor not to mention my doctorate qualifies me to review your pedestrian works. Don't worry, Castle; no matter what you throw at me, I guarantee I've read worse."

Gina suppressed a snort of laughter. "Oh yes, this is going to work nicely."

"I'll have you know, _Professor_," he said mockingly, "that the New York Review of Books hailed Derrick Storm as one of this century's greatest characters."

"And," she said, leaning in even further, "how much did you have to pay for that review?"

He gave her a childish smile before impatiently tapping his fingertips against the table and glancing at Gina. "Are we done here?"

"As soon as you sign this we will be," she said, handing over the pen. He snatched it, scribbled down his signature, and then dropped the pen as though it were a hot coal. With one more glance at Kate, he pushed himself up from the table and turned to leave.

"Happy Fourth of July!" Kate called after him; he didn't turn around.

"Bravo, Dr. Beckett," Gina said with a slow smile once they were alone. Kate turned towards the blonde woman with a satisfied smile. "I have to say, I was a little worried about you. Rick can be quite a hurricane force and I thought he might just overpower you."

Kate chuckled. "Him? No. Don't forget I deal with entitled rich kids on a daily basis in my classes; he's no different."

"Well," Gina said with a curious grin, "I guess we'll see about that, won't we?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Three**

On the Monday after the Fourth of July, Kate arrived at Castle's apartment promptly at ten a.m. Before parting with Castle's publisher the week earlier, she had provided Kate with Castle's address as well as the suggestion that she arrive at the writer's home no earlier than mid-morning, and even then it would be a fifty-fifty chance as to whether he was awake or not. Kate could not honestly say this surprised her. Her twenty minute interaction with the man led her to believe he had the same maturity level as many of her first year students, all of whom would have turned their noses up at the concept of waking and dressing much earlier than noon.

Kate raised her fist to knock against the apartment door, but then paused, letting her arm hover in mid-air. Three weeks, she reminded herself. She could do anything for three weeks. Then, before she could second guess her decision any more, she rapped sharply on the door.

Much to Kate's surprise, a blue-eyed, crimson-haired teenager opened the door. "Can I help you?"

"Ah, yes, I," Kate paused to glance down at her phone screen to double check the apartment number. "I'm looking for Richard Castle. Am I-"

The girl smiled. "C'mon in. You must be the professor."

Kate nodded and stepped inside the apartment. Though she was momentarily stunned by the vastness of the space compared to her meager four hundred and fifty square feet, she quickly turned back to the girl, who wore black Capri pants and a flowing cream colored top. After shutting the door, she turned back to Kate, who extended her hand. "Dr. Kate Beckett."

"Alexis," the girl said, shaking her hand. "My dad's in his office; it's right on the other side of those bookshelves." She said, pointing across the room.

Kate nodded silently and turned in the direction the girl pointed, feeling momentarily dumb from her surprised. She had no idea that Castle had a daughter. Then again, she realized, she knew very little about the man, starting with his marital status (though, from the way he was flirting with her, she assumed—or, at least, hoped—he was currently unmarried). Quite frankly, married or single, childless or father of dozens it didn't matter to her. She was not one to revel in the details of coworkers personal lives, and this certainly would be no different.

As she crossed the room, Kate observed her surroundings. From the spacious kitchen, the floor to ceiling windows and expensive furniture, the apartment was exactly what she imagined that of the Manhattan elite to be. This truly was how the other half—the wealthy half—lived. Though she had to admit it had a warm, homey feeling rather than the stark modern edge of so many apartments she'd seen. Then again, she may have just been attracted to the hundreds if not thousands of books lining every inch of the shelves in and around his office; their leather bindings reminded her of home.

Kate paused at the office door and rapped on the frame, calling the attention of the man seated at the wooden desk. He looked up and immediately his face relaxed. "Dr. Beckett. Good morning." He stood from the desk and walked around to the other side. As he did so, she noted he wore a navy blue plaid shirt with khaki cargo shorts, which was much better than the robe she half expected. "Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea? Water?"

"I'm fine right now, thank you." She tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and glanced behind her as she stepped into the office. "You're, ah, daughter let me in."

"Oh she's still here?" Castle asked, glancing to the clock resting on one of the bookshelves across from the desk. "Ah, yes, she doesn't have to be at her internship until eleven. You'll like Alexis; I imagine she's a lot like you."

Kate's eyebrows arched. "Oh?"

Castle nodded as he sat on the front edge of his desk. "You seem like the overachiever type and that's Alexis to a T. She has three internships this summer in three different fields. She's hoping to get early admission to college so she's stacking the deck in her favor."

Kate smiled. "How very astute of her."

"Yeah, I don't know where she gets it. Please, sit." Castle gestured to one of the chairs opposite the desk. He watched as Kate set down the oversized black purse she carried and took a seat in the chair as directed, taking great care to straighten her knee-length black skirt as she did so. Coupling the skirt with the button-down short sleeve blouse she wore, Castle could clearly see her as a college professor. All she needed were the dark rimmed glasses.

"Look, Kate—I can call you Kate, right? I just feel like we got off on the wrong foot last week and I was hoping we could start fresh."

Kate blinked and folded her hands in her lap. "Oh? I didn't think we started on the wrong foot."

"Really? Because you seem to hate me."

Kate let out a breathy chuckle. "I don't hate you, Mr. Castle. I just wanted you to know that for me this is just a job; I'm just doing a favor for someone I used to work with."

Castle groaned and shut his eyes. "A favor for Gina? Aren't you a little young to sell your soul to the devil?"

Kate arched her eyebrows at Castle's intriguing opinion of his publisher. "The favor isn't for Gina."

His brow furrowed. "You didn't…you didn't work with Gina?"

She shook her head and clarified. "No, I worked out of a different office when I worked for Black Pawn. A coworker of mine there is now one of the publishers on Gina's level. She heard about Gina's problem and recommended me for the position."

"Gina's problem meaning me?" he questioned.

"Meaning a client with writing performance issues," Kate explained.

"Whoa!" Castle gasped, standing up straight and holding his hands out in front him. "My performance is just fine, thank you very much."

Kate rolled her eyes slightly as the writer had taken her "performance issues" comment in an entirely unnecessary direction. "Why don't you let me be the judge of that?" she responded. "How many chapters have you completed of your latest novel?"

"Ah…" Castle hedged as he walked around behind the desk. "Chapters? Well, it's difficult to say exactly because I've done a lot of outlining and-"

"So zero? Zero chapters?" Kate concluded. Castle grimaced. She shut her eyes and shook her head. Okay, so this was going to be a very long three weeks, particularly if the status of Castle's writings had been completely misrepresented to her. "Do you at least have an outline we can discuss?"

"Absolutely!" Castle snatched a remote control from the desk and flicked it towards the television mounted on the wall beside them. After he clicked a few keys on his keyboard to enable screen sharing his screen displayed on the television. On it was a Word document, which appeared to have a character names with notes next to them.

"Before we go any further can I ask a question?" Kate said, scooting her chair a bit closer to the television so she could read the screen more easily.

"Of course!"

She flicked her eyes towards him while maintaining a casual tone to her voice. "Just so I know what I'm in for: at any point will a Red Room of Pain be involved?"

Castle's head whipped in her direction. "Now listen, I may not be Charlotte Bronte, but my books are a far cry from _Fifty Shades of Gray_ okay? That's just insulting!"

Kate suppressed a smirk, knowing she struck a nerve. "Have you even read _Jane Eyre_?"

"Of course; it was a school assignment."

"_Cliff's Notes_ don't count."

Twisting his lips to the side he rotated his body so that he was facing her. He placed his hands on his desk and took her in. "You think you're very funny, don't you? You've got the famous writer all figured out. Well two can play that game."

She arched one eyebrow at him in a clear challenge. "Yeah? Try me."

He cleared his throat and stretched his neck to the left then the right before he began his assessment, which he'd gleaned after just a few minutes with her. "You're a native New Yorker—Manhattan—which means your family is well off. Not old money. Not wealthy. But well off. Well enough to send you to private school, but you went to public. Your parents wanted you to have the same real experiences they had. You weren't valedictorian, but you did well. Top ten percent of your class at least. You went to an Ivy League—I'm guessing Columbia because you're a city girl. You spent many hours in the library, hunched over books just waiting for your Mr. Darcy to arrive. Tall, dark, and brooding—is that what your current," he paused to crane his neck and glance down at her hands, "I don't see a ring so—boyfriend is like?"

Kate remained silent, but she continued to hold his stare.

After about thirty seconds he asked with a proud smile, "So?"

"I went to Stanford," she replied.

"But the rest is right, isn't it?"

She cleared her throat and turned her attention to the television screen displaying his outline. "I'd like to get back to work now."

"Well now hold on a second. I have a question." When she looked back at him, he asked, "Have you ever even read one of my novels?"

"Of course."

"Just one?"

"Yes."

"Which one?"

"Hell Hath No Fury."

He groaned. "Oh well if you've only read one, I wish it was a different one but nevertheless—what did you think?"

Kate merely shrugged. "Eh."

"Eh?!" he responded incredulously.

"The writing wasn't bad, but the genre wasn't really my thing," she explained further.

"So if the writing isn't bad, why didn't you read another one? Oh damn!" He threw his hands up in a dramatic manner. "That's right—none of my books are set in the eighteen seventies!"

She looked at him pointedly. "Just because I prefer books from a different era doesn't mean I'm incapable of reading modern literature."

Castle huffed out a frustrated breath. "All I'm saying is: how can you properly critique my work without actually knowing my work?"

"I did that every day as an editor as Black Pawn. I assure you, Mr. Castle, I can be objective. Now can we please get down to business?"

With a sweeping hand gesture towards the TV screen monitor, Castle said, "By all means." Then, he slid his wireless computer mouse across the desk to her.

Kate caught the object and used it to enlarge the zoom level on the document to one hundred and fifty percent to allow for easier reading. She then began to skim his quasi outline.

Castle's story, which remained untitled at that point, was about an FBI agent named Timothy Blackwell. Blackwell was tasked to investigate a series of disappearances of female students at an upstate New York university—a university where his eighteen-year-old daughter just happened to be a freshmen. As the disappearances become more bizarre, Blackwell begins to feel as though he'll never catch the killer. Then, his own daughter goes missing, and he realizes he must solve the mystery before she loses her life as well.

After skimming through a few more of Castle's random notes, Kate realized she had scrolled to the end of the word document. She scrolled up to the top and skimmed through the paragraphs once more, making sure she hadn't missed anything, before turning to him and asking, "Where's the rest of it?"

"That's it; that's all I have."

Her jaw dropped slightly. "This is it? This is nothing! Your publishers told me that you had a novel that needed improvements."

"I do…sort of," he added with a slight wince. "I mean, I did give them a completed manuscript, but they hated it."

"So should we work on that?"

"Eh…I don't think that's a good idea. They really hated it, and I'm guessing you won't be a fan either," he stated. She eyed him curiously. "It involved an alien invasion and I'm going to take a wild guess that sci-fi is one of your least favorite genres."

"That would be correct," she informed him. Then with a long exhale, she turned back to the outline—if it could even be called that with such a scant amount of information. "Then let's focus on this. It's a decent plot. How does it end?"

He let out a melodramatic gasp. "A magician doesn't reveal his secrets!"

She blinked at him and then asked in a flat tone, "You don't know, do you?"

"Nope."

"Castle!"

"What?" he whined, picking up his Darth-Vader-head-shaped stress ball from the corner of his desk and giving it a hearty squeeze. "I don't always have to know the ending of a story before I start it; sometimes it just comes to me."

"Do you at least have possible suspects? A red herring or two?"

He tossed Darth's head up in the air and then caught it. "I was thinking I could do something with the dean maybe?"

With a deep exhale, Kate traced her index finger over her brow line and shut her eyes. Suddenly, she was back in her cramped office, sitting across from a first year student who had clearly squeaked by his high school English classes by the atrocity that was Wikipedia, explaining to him that no, characters from graphic novels were not permitted on her assignment to compare and contrast anti-heroes in literature.

"Okay," she concluded finally, "let's just talk about how the story begins. Who is Timothy Blackwell?"

For the next several hours they brainstormed, jotted down notes, crossed them out and started again. Castle ordered in Chinese for their lunch, insisting on paying as his treat on her first day of work. She hesitantly accepted the meal and they ate as they continued to theorize.

By four p.m. Kate was exhausted, but she knew Castle had enough to begin the first chapter of his book, which was his homework assignment for that evening.

"So, uh," Castle asked as he followed her to the front door, "your boyfriend waiting for you at home?"

She pursed her lips at him. "Is that your not-so-subtle way of finding out if I really do have a boyfriend?" Castle shrugged. "So what if he is?"

He studied her for a moment. "He's a professor too, isn't he?"

Kate couldn't help but let her mouth gape open slightly. "How could you possibly—you know what," she held her hands up and shook her head. "Never mind."

"It's something super boring, right?" he challenged her. "Like history. Possibly another literature professor but no," he shook his head, skimming his fingers over his chin. "No, that's too incestuous for you."

"Social psychology," she informed him, mostly out of a desperate attempt to end the conversation quickly. Then, at the grimace on his face, she immediately regretted her actions.

"He's a shrink!?" Castle asked with horror.

"No, he does research," she corrected.

"So he plays with rats?"

Her nose scrunched. "What? No. His studies are done with people."

Castle gasped dramatically. "He treats people like rats?!"

"Goodbye, Castle," she said, turning towards the door and hurrying out as quickly as she could before Castle could make another comment.

* * *

"Hey there she is! How was your first da—oh it wasn't good was it?" Paul's tone turned cautious the second he saw Kate's face when she arrived home that evening.

"No," she said dully. "No, it was not."

"Is he as arrogant as you thought he would be?"

"Of course." Kate sighed and dropped her bag on the kitchen counter. She toed off her shoes, walked over to the bed and flopped down on it. "But worse! He hasn't written a thing!"

"What?" Paul gasped. "I thought you were consulting on his finished novel?"

"So did I! But no—he doesn't even have a real outline. It's… a mess." She groaned and rolled onto her stomach so that her face was pressed into the blankets.

"So what are you going to do? Quit? Claim misrepresentation on their part?"

"No," Kate said, mostly into the mattress. "They're still paying me no matter what. It's just…frustrating."

"I can only imagine. I do, however, have something that I believe will cheer you up," Paul said. Kate pushed herself into a sitting position and eyed him curiously. Paul waved her over to the kitchen where he produced two bottles of wine. "To celebrate your first day or—as the case may be—de-stress from your first day."

Kate took one of the bottles from his hand and felt some perspiration begin to form at her hairline. She recognized it as one of Paul's favorite wines. She enjoyed it too. She did not, however, enjoy its price tag. "Paul," she began cautiously. "I thought you weren't going to buy any more of this until we moved?"

"Yeah, but who knows if we can even get it in Illinois? Besides, we're celebrating you're new job." He grinned before taking the bottle back from her and procuring their corkscrew.

She opened her mouth to protest, but then closed it again. What was the point? They were already out over a hundred and fifty dollars for the wine. Besides, after spending the day on a sojourn in the cluttered writer mind of Richard Castle, she was much too tired to fight.

"So what's for dinner?" Paul asked. "Hopefully something that goes with these wines."

"I, ah, you didn't make anything?" she stammered, knowing that aside from his trip to procure the wine, he probably had not left their apartment all day.

"I was working on my article all afternoon," he said simply. "We could go out or-"

"No," she said quickly. Clearly they had spent enough money that day. "I'm sure I can come up with something I just…I just need a shower first."

Placing two wine glasses on the counter, Paul arched an eyebrow at her. "Did you sweat a lot at the writer's place?"

"No, no," she said, forcing a chuckle. "Just have a headache; trying to get rid of it." He smiled and nodded. Kate mirrored his expression before walking into their cardboard-box-sized bathroom and shutting the door. As she reached into the shower and cranked on the faucet, she could feel the tears of frustration burning behind her eyelids. Fortunately, once she was beneath the shower spray, there would be no reason to hold them back.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: I'm not going to lie - I'm glad you guys hate Paul as much as you do :)_

* * *

**Four**

The next morning, prompt on the ten o'clock hour, Kate arrived at Castle's residence resolved to have a better Day Two than Day One. Once again, she was let inside by his bright-eyed daughter. Unfortunately, this time, the news was not as positive.

"I don't think my dad is up yet," Alexis informed her simply.

Kate blinked at her. "He's…not?"

She shook her head. "No sorry. It's not unusual for him. He was probably up late writing, which is good for you, right?"

"Right," Kate echoed as she gazed distantly towards the office door.

"I'd go see if he's awake, except… I'm not really supposed to go into his room," she confessed. Kate's head turned back towards the younger girl, her expression curious. "I know—silly, right?" Alexis laughed. "That rule is obviously from when I was little. Don't go in Dad's room unless there's a fire or another emergency, but…I dunno," she shrugged, "now that I'm older it still seems like a good idea."

Kate nodded; she could only imagine why that rule was set into place and what the young orange-haired girl had accidentally seen—or almost accidentally seen.

"But I can get Gran. She goes in there all the time!"

Alexis took two steps towards the stairs behind them, but Kate stopped her. "No. It's fine. I can just…wait."

"Are you sure?" Alexis asked. Kate nodded. "Okay, well, have a seat anywhere. You want some coffee? If I make some, it'll probably wake Dad up."

"Sure, that'd be great," Kate told her with a smile.

Alexis led the way to the kitchen and started the coffee pot with ease. She then turned to the cabinets to retrieve a mug for the guest.

"So, ah," Kate cleared her throat, "your father said you're doing a few internships this summer?"

"Uh huh," Alexis said with a smile. "One a real estate company, one at Black Pawn, and another at an animal shelter—though that's not really an internship; just volunteering."

"Wow, sounds busy," Kate stated.

"Not really—they're each only two days a week. Monday and Wednesday at Black Pawn, Tuesday and Thursday at Sampson Holdings, and then Friday and Saturday morning at the shelter."

When she received her coffee mug, Kate thanked the younger girl and took a sip. She smiled immediately; Castle certainly had good taste in coffee. "Are you enjoying them?"

"Sure. Though I've definitely crossed real estate agent off my list of future careers. Publishing is interesting, though," Alexis said.

"Sweetie, we've talked about this before—you're not allowed to become a soulless demon like Gina." Castle entered the kitchen wearing a robe tied loosely around his waist, revealing a t-shirt and boxer shorts beneath. His hair was still mashed every which way, but his disheveled state did not seem to faze him in any way despite the presence of a guest. Without looking at anything else in the kitchen, he went directly to the coffee pot.

"I don't want to be like Gina, Dad; you know I couldn't," she informed him.

Castle took a long gulp from his mug and walked over to kiss his daughter's head. "True. You're much too innocent." After another sip of coffee he turned to the other woman in the kitchen. "Good morning, Kate."

"Good morning, Castle," she echoed.

Alexis bid them both goodbye, stating that her internship was waiting and she needed to go. With a one-armed hug to her father, she left. Once she was gone, Kate turned to Castle and asked, "So…get any writing done last night?"

"Actually, I did. I finished the whole first chapter."

Kate smiled. "Excellent. Would you…like to get dressed before we review it?"

Castle glanced down at himself and shrugged before ushering her to follow him. On the way out of the kitchen, he snagged a packet of Pop Tarts from a box on the counter. Tucking them into the pocket of his robe, he took another sip of his coffee and glanced back over his shoulder to make sure the professor would be joining him in the office.

"By the way," he said, "I like the glasses." That day, she was wearing the dark-rimmed frames he'd imagined the day before; the ones that created her professor-esque exterior. Instead of a pencil skirt, she wore black pants with a blue blouse, but the effect was the same.

"Oh, ah, thanks." She tapped the underside of the frames as though she almost forgot she'd been wearing them. "I'm not a huge fan, but my eyes weren't taking the contacts this morning."

"Ah," Castle said knowingly. He set his coffee beside his computer and plucked the Pop Tarts from his pocket. "Crying does do that."

She stopped walking abruptly and stared at him. How could he possibly have known that she was crying the night before?

As though his telekinetic powers had just kicked in, Castle continued. "Gina did the same thing. The only time she wore glasses was the day after she cried. Which, mind you, was only two times that I know about being that she is a heartless robot—a heartless evil robot," he corrected.

Kate's brow knitted together as his words filtered through her brain. So much of what he said made no sense, her only response was, "What?"

After a large bite of pastry, Castle looked up at her. "You know—Gina my publisher-slash-ex-wife."

"Ohh!" She said dramatically. Suddenly, the bizarrely playful aggression between writer and publisher made perfect sense. She laughed to herself and sat down in one of the office chairs. "You two must have a very…interesting relationship."

Castle laughed and mumbled through his breakfast, "That's one way to put it."

Kate thought back to the blonde woman she'd shared coffee with the week before and considered this new knowledge. Momentarily forgetting the fact that she usually had no interest in gossip, she lowered her brain's filter defense system and asked, "But she's not Alexis's-"

"No, no," Castle said quickly. "God, Gina with a child—that would be the day. Alexis's mother is Meredith, a wannabe actress who lives in California."

"…which is why Alexis lives with you," Kate concluded swiftly. Still chewing, Castle tapped his nose and then pointed at her, indicating that she was correct. "So…how many wives have you had?"

"Just the two. You ever been hitched?"

"No."

Castle merely shrugged before shoving a small stack of papers in her direction. "Chapter one. You read; I'll be back in a few minutes." He stood, brushed some crumbs off the front of his robe onto the floor, and then exited to a door on his left, which Kate realized led directly into his bedroom.

With Castle gone, Kate turned to the first chapter of the manuscript in front of her. Chapter one introduced FBI Agent Timothy Blackwell as he arrived at a crime scene on Cornell's campus. Pools of blood filled the hallways of a dormitory, but no body was in sight. This was the third incident of its kind in the prior few weeks and the first to be coupled with a ransom-style note. Thus, the Feds had been called in.

By the time Castle returned to the office, dressed in khaki shorts and a t-shirt but not, Kate noted, clean shaven, she had finished the first half of the first chapter. At that point, the focus switched to that of the female dean of the school and her distress over a third apparent missing and possibly deceased female student.

"So?" Castle questioned when Kate placed the stack of papers back on the desk.

"No bad," she concluded. "Why'd you make the dean female?"

"To make it seem less likely that she would be a suspect, but ultimately she will be. Why do you ask?"

Kate shrugged. "Yesterday you said you were thinking about making the dean a suspect, so I was curious if you were still going that route. Why did she kill the girls?"

"She didn't."

"Why do they suspect her?"

"The real killer plants evidence at her house."

"Why?"

"I'm not sure yet," he concluded. "But I'm working on it."

"Well," she said, "you keep working on it. I'm going to go back through this a bit closer." From the purse at her feet, she pulled a red pen, gripped the cap between her teeth and pulled hard enough for it to come off. After sticking the cap back on the non-writing end of the pen, she turned the writing implement towards the chapter and began to mark things she saw needed to be changed.

For the next few hours they worked together to revamp Castle's first chapter. Kate decided that over all it was good, however even that early on in the writing, his main character could have been better developed. At first, Castle seemed mildly offended by her suggestions; he even reminded her about his twenty previous best sellers, all of which were written in a similar manner. Kate countered his argument by saying that may have been true, but with a slight improvement in characterization, this book could be the best seller of all the previous best sellers. Fortunately, her stroke to his ego worked and he agreed to make a few additions to Agent Blackwell's character.

Shortly after one p.m. Castle announced they needed to break for lunch since too much thinking stifled his creative juices. Not only that, but they needed to leave the apartment as well; he was feeling too cramped.

In an effort to show Kate they would still be working while eating, he invited her to come along. He slipped on a pair of flip flops and led the way down the street to his favorite neighborhood bistro. The bread, he told her, was excellent. Though he offered to pick up the tab for Kate's lunch, she refused. They paid for their sandwiches separately and then took a seat at corner table facing the streets of Manhattan.

"So why do you like British literature so much?" he asked.

She plucked a napkin from the dispenser at the table and placed it delicately in her lap. "Why don't you like it?"

He shrugged and mumbled through a large bite of his pastrami on rye, "Eh."

"Eh?" she echoed.

"Yeah, eh. I seem to recall you having the same opinion about my books," he said pointedly. She took a bite of her turkey club and said nothing. "They just…they don't do anything for me. There's no action; no passion."

"No guns, no explosions…" She continued, though she was clearly mocking him.

He grinned. "Precisely. Plus every story needs a little spice."

"Not really."

Castle set his sandwich back down on his plate and sucked a stray glob of mustard from his thumb. "Please. Tell me Emily Bronte wouldn't have written about a guy and a gal knockin' boots if it had been socially acceptable at the time."

Kate dropped her chin to her chest and gazed at him under her brow line with utmost annoyance.

"Okay, sue me, I don't like reading stories about women linking arms and taking walks around rooms. It's boring as hell and makes me want to jump off my balcony." He picked up his sandwich and took another oversized bite. "Now _Pride, Prejudice, and Zombies_ is something I can get behind."

With an eye roll she said, "Of course."

"Back to my question: why British lit?"

She smiled gently. "I dunno, I guess I just fell in love with the stories, you know? It was a different time when everything was simpler. Or, at least, complicated in a different way. It's a fairy tale, but it's real, you know? Those people really lived in a time where all that stuff really happened."

She broke the corner off one of the bacon slices in her sandwich and popped it in her mouth. "Plus, I dunno. As fun as movies like _The Avengers_ can be, it's nice to go back to a time when there aren't smart phones or text messages—or even phones at all!"

Castle nodded. He could see her point about things being simpler. True, from a writing standpoint, it was much easier to write a modern tale where information was easily gathered with the tap of a finger, but he would not discount the creativity and importance of works like Sherlock Homes, which, like Kate's Victorian novels, existed in a much simpler time.

"I find your opinion interesting, though I'm not going to be rereading _Pride and Prejudice_ any time soon," he informed her.

"That's fair," she said with a chuckle.

He ripped open a bag of potato chips and dumped them all over the remnants of his sandwich. "But I do find something you said quite intriguing."

"Oh?"

He picked up two chips to pop in his mouth. "You've seen _The Avengers_?"

"Of course," she replied with a slight laugh. Seeing shock still registering on his face she explained, "I actually, uh, it's silly but I actually kind of like graphic novels."

"No you don't," he said instantly.

"I do!" She insisted, laughing. "It's crazy and obviously really contrary to all my academic works, but I always have. Paul thinks I'm insane but-"

"Paul being the boyfriend?" Castle asked for clarification.

She bobbed her head. "But I've liked comics since I was a kid. I mean, I don't make weekly pilgrimages to a comic book store or anything, but the Marvel movies intrigued me so I went and saw them."

"With or without Paul?"

She smiled. "Paul went to see Captain America with me and he absolutely hated it, so I had to go see all the others by myself."

Castle skimmed his fingers across the stubble on his chin, now even more intrigued by his literature consultant. "It seems I may have had you pegged wrong, Ms. Beckett."

"How did you peg me?"

"A boring professor. Well, technically, before I saw you I pegged you as a sixty-five year old matronly woman who wore an excess of houndstooth prints."

Kate laughed loudly. "Well, I assure you I'm a far cry from that."

He leaned forward in his seat, resting his hands on the table. "So there are more surprises to come?"

She smiled. "I guess you'll just have to wait and see."


	5. Chapter 5

**Five**

On Monday morning, Kate could not bring herself to say she was looking forward to returning to Castle's loft, but she certainly wasn't _not_ looking forward to it. Though they had a bit of a rocky start, she really felt they'd begun to find their rhythm by the end of the week. Granted, their "rhythm" involved her being a glorified babysitter to an easily distracted over-grown child, but at least the number of times she wanted to wring his neck each day was steadily decreasing.

Though they had a mild setback mid-week when Castle decided the female dean just wasn't working for him, by Friday they'd begun moving forward again. Over the weekend, Kate's assignment for Castle was to complete the third chapter of his book and, if he really wanted to surprise her, begin the fourth. He accepted her terms on the condition that he was permitted to assign homework to her, which he insisted was only fair.

Begrudgingly, she agreed, and soon found herself in possession of _Storm Rising_, Castle's first novel to feature the infamous Derrick Storm, a CIA agent who brought the author much fame and fortune in recent years. Granted, that fame turned more towards infamy the prior year when he killed off the illustrious spook, which, as he explained to Kate, he did due to boredom with Derrick. Storm's stories had come to an end, but Blackwell's were just beginning.

Per Castle's instance and despite Paul's never ending series of guffaws, Kate dove headlong into the world of Derrick Storm that weekend. Though her journey began with a heavy amount of skepticism, she quickly found Storm's tale to be intriguing. True, mysteries and thrillers weren't normally her preferred genres, but damn that Castle—he'd got her hooked.

Due to the edge-of-the-seat nature of the story (and the fact that it was only moderately long as far as books went), she finished the story by Sunday afternoon and was pleasantly surprised at the outcome. Yes, the concept of the mysterious underground international society made her roll her eyes, but there were more than enough plausible twists and turns along the ride to make up for that shortcoming. While she was not ready to go out and buy the complete collection of his works, she would not be opposed to reading a different Derrick Storm tale, or another one of Castle's books. Not that she was going to let him know that, of course.

Arriving at the loft at ten, Kate knocked on the door just like she had all the other times. That time, however, instead of being greeted by a blue-eyed teen or her father, she was unceremoniously yanked into the apartment by her right arm. The act was so unexpected and brazen that she could not help but yelp.

"Shh!" Castle's voice hissed into her ear. He stood immediately behind her with his left arm looped across the front of her collar bone, as though he was holding her hostage.

"Castle, what the-"

"Shh!" he hissed again. Then, with a voice barely above a whisper, he informed her, "The game is at a delicate juncture."

His arm still around her neck, he walked with her into the apartment. Still too stunned to protest, Kate followed along, her eyes searching the living area for any indicator as to what was really going on; she found nothing out of the ordinary.

Suddenly, from beneath the kitchen island, Castle's daughter emerged and shouted, "Ah ha!" Much to Kate's bewilderment, she did not resemble any version of herself Kate had previously seen. Her red hair was knotted at the crown of her head. The majority of the rest of her face and head was obscured by a large mask. Across her chest she wore a vest outlined with blue blinking lights.

Castle reacted by holding up a large clear plastic weapon-shaped object and pointing it directly at her. "Not so fast!"

"Dad," Alexis whined, pushing the mask up and off her face. "You cannot use a human shield!"

"A human shield!" Kate gasped, horror evident in her tone. She pushed her hands beneath Castle's arm and loosened it enough from her neck so that she could twist out of his grip. When she faced him, she realized the writer was dressed similarly to his daughter.

"Aww, c'mon!" he said. "I was just-"

"Ha-HA!" Alexis proclaimed as she aimed her plastic gun at his chest. A moment later, a trill of music could be heard and Castle's vest displayed a red X.

Though he groaned, he pulled off his mask to reveal a grin. "I have taught you well, daughter."

She beamed at him, took a bow, and then pulled off her vest. "Gotta go—see you for dinner, Dad." With that, she grabbed her purse and headed out the door.

When Kate turned back to Castle, he too had shed his vest and was tossing it onto the nearby sofa. "What…what just happened?" she asked with ultimate confusion.

"Laser tag," he responded simply. "You ever played?"

"No…"

"Why not? It's fun!"

Following him into the office, she said, "Because I'm not a fourteen year old boy."

"Neither am I."

"That's arguable," she muttered under her breath before changing the subject. "Did you finish your homework?"

"Did you?" he countered.

She pulled the borrowed copy of _Storm Rising_ from her bag and placed it on his desk. "Yes, I did; thank you."

He rubbed his hands together with anticipation as he looked at her. "And?"

"And what?"

He gazed at her, wide-eyed. "Did you like it?"

Maintaining a neutral expression, she informed him, "It was okay."

Castle squeaked. "It was okay—it was okay!? You finished it in just one weekend—I'd say that was more than okay."

She shrugged. "I'm a fast reader."

"Kaaate," he whined at her.

"Fine," she submitted, though it pained her. "I enjoyed the suspense more than I thought I would. Happy now?"

He beamed a smile that made her regret her round-about compliment. "Very. And I," he paused pick up a stack of pages, "finished chapter three."

Kate smiled and held out her hands. "Great!" He placed the chapter in her grasp, but before she could even move her body an inch away from him, he quickly placed another stack on top of the first. She blinked. "What's this?"

"Revised chapters one and two."

Kate cocked her head to the side. "You rewrote them again? Really?"

"Hey," he said, holding up both hands, palms facing her. "This is how my process works sometimes. It's better that I start over now than have a horrible story I don't even want to finish."

Kate gave a nod, conceding to this point. She took the stack with her to the small loveseat in his office, which she discovered as a preferable alternative to the chair, since it afforded her more room.

Castle watched her as she walked. "Sit down, relax. Kick your shoes off—and I mean that literally."

"What?" she responded once she was seated and digging through her bag for a red pen.

He nodded towards the ground. "Your shoes. For each of the last five days, you've sat in my office all day and left your shoes on. Who does that? Don't your feet get sweaty?"

She wrinkled her brow at him, but gave no other response. With her red pen found, she turned back to the manuscript.

"Seriously," he continued. "It's summer, Kate. Capris and flip flops are allowed."

She scoffed. "For the beach, maybe."

"Or for here," he informed her.

She flicked her gaze up to meet his for one moment. "That's not professional."

Castle let out a bark of laughter. "Professional? Hell, I don't even shower every morning for this."

"Thanks, by the way," she said with an air of sarcasm.

"All I'm saying is this is an environment where comic book t-shirts are allowed—nay, encouraged!" he beamed. "And you can save these outfits for your next meeting with the dean."

"Are you through?" she asked, not bothering to look at him as she scribbled some markings in the margin of the second page. He said nothing. "Good. Then why don't you start on chapter four?"

* * *

Despite Castle's insistence that his latest revision would provide the best story, after reading the first three chapters, Kate remained uncertain. In the latest version, the female dean was back, but the writer informed her that he did not intend to use her as a suspect, but an outspoken victim's advocate. She agreed to go with it, mostly due to the fact that he'd strong-armed her into the idea, but she informed him that she would not be shy about voicing her opinion if the book did not progress in a way that would draw the reader in.

After a long day of arguing back and forth about how many victims there should be before the killer was discovered, Kate left Castle's apartment only to discover she would not have enough time to go back to her apartment to get Paul and still make it to her parents' for dinner on time, so she texted him and asked him to meet her there.

For the prior few years, Kate and Paul made a habit of a once monthly dinner with her parents. Kate typically saw her parents more frequently than that, particularly her mother, but the monthly dinner was their only pre-scheduled time to meet. Kate thoroughly enjoyed their dinners and, surprisingly, so did Paul. He did not have an excess of family meals growing up, and he appreciated the old-style family gathering, as cell phones were not permitted at the Beckett family dinner table.

Kate exited the subway stop closest to her parent's mid-town apartment knowing that she more than likely beat Paul there, as he was coming from their place in Tribeca. Once up on street level, Kate noticed how oppressively hot it felt walking down the sidewalk; hot coals may have given off less heat. Perhaps Castle had a point about the Capri pants, particularly in the ninety-plus-degree days of July.

She welcomed the cool blast of air conditioning from the lobby of her parent's building as she smiled a hello to the doorman. She took the elevator to the second floor and knocked on the door of her childhood home. A moment later, her father opened the door with a broad smile. "Katie."

"Hi Dad." She hugged him, kissed his cheek and then stepped inside, dropping her purse to the ground and kicking off her heels.

"Where's Paul?"

"Oh he should be here shortly; we came separately since I was coming right from Castle's."

"Ah," her father nodded. "The mystery writer. How's that going?"

Kate's only response was to roll her eyes before walking to the kitchen to find her mother. Kate was the spitting image of the apron-clad woman standing by the stove, who smiled upon sight of her only child. "How are you doing, sweetheart?" the elder woman asked. "Better yet—how is Richard Castle doing?"

"Ah," Kate laughed. "Him."

Her mother tilted her head to the side and asked. "What? Isn't he what you expected?"

"No, he is; that's the problem," Kate said with a slight groan.

Just as she finished pouring herself a glass of wine, there was a knock at the door, indicating the arrival of Paul. The four of them exchanged pleasantries for a few moments in the kitchen before they sat around the dining room table and began their meal.

"Johanna, did you get these vegetables at that organic market I told you about?" Paul asked Kate's mother.

"Oh, ah, ye-yes," she replied. Kate glanced at her father, who mouthed "No," and then was forced to pass off a chuckle as a cough.

"I know it's a little more expensive, but it's totally worth it. Wouldn't you agree, Jim?"

"Totally," Kate's father replied. She shot him a cautioning look, not wanting their meal to turn into another argument about the true meaning of "organic."

"So, Kate, tell us about your work—we haven't had much of a chance to speak since last week," her mother encouraged.

"Yes, how is Castle today?" Paul chimed in, his tone obviously condescending. "Did he balance a red ball on his nose for some fishy treats?"

"No, but he was playing laser tag with his daughter when I walked in," she said with a laugh.

"He has a daughter? Is he married?" Johanna asked.

"No, divorced. And Alexis is sixteen or seventeen; she seems very studious. Unlike Castle who," Kate closed her eyes and shook her head as she exhaled. "Sometimes I feel like I need to tie him to the desk to get him to work."

"I thought you were editing his latest book," Jim asked.

"Oh I would be—if it existed."

"Evidently the publisher misrepresented their celebrity client—shocker," Paul chimed in.

"Right. So he's just in the process of writing and rewriting and rewriting now. It's not that bad, I guess, but it's not at all what I expected."

"What's the book about?" her mother asked conversationally.

Kate smiled at her. "I can't tell you—confidentiality agreement."

Her mother smiled innocently. "Can't you just give us a little hint?"

"Okay—someone gets murdered."

Johanna gave her daughter's arm a light smack. "Very funny Katherine."

"Sorry, Mom," Kate laughed. "You'll have to wait until it comes out like everyone else."

"Can I get a signed copy?"

She nodded. "I can probably arrange that." With a gleeful smile, Johanna turned back to her chicken.

Paul sighed as he gazed over at his girlfriend. "Thank goodness you only have two weeks left."

"But then you'll be leaving!" Johanna insisted, reaching across the table to squeeze her daughter's hand.

"Mom," Kate groaned. They had only had this conversation one million times since Paul accepted his position in Illinois. "It's going to be fine. There's always Skype, remember?"

"But it's not the same as having you here at the dinner table."

"We'll set up the laptop on our table there and you set up yours here; then we'll be eating together," she smiled.

"At least you don't have a whole lot to move," Jim said positively. "Four hundred square feet does fit nicely into a U-Haul."

"True," Kate said, "except we have to get it all in there. I'm going to spend this weekend boxing up all the books that I'm not using. Fortunately, all my off-season clothes are already in storage containers. So are Paul's. So it shouldn't be that bad. Right?"

"No," Paul shook his head. "The worst part is going to be the drive."

"Yes," Kate said, knowing that her boyfriend had already expressed doubt in his ability to drive the van they would be renting, "it will be."


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: I feel its only fair to warn you that Paul won't be leaving any time soon :)_

* * *

**Six**

Two days later, Kate and Castle had made it through chapter six of his yet-to-be-named murder-centric novel. Kate was thoroughly pleased with this since it appeared Castle had finally settled on a plot he liked; there had been no more rewrites since the weekend. Still, they were not as far along as she hoped they'd be despite reaching the halfway point in her tenure as a consultant.

On Wednesday afternoon, Kate received a call from Gina requesting an update that was not filled with the billows of smoke Castle blew in her direction. Kate's assessment was mainly positive, though she cautioned Gina that his manuscript might not be completed by the end of the month. Gina said that was alright so long as he was finished by the end of summer.

Thursday, Kate arrived at the loft at the usual time and was once again greeted by Alexis. When she stepped inside, she noted that the girl looked extremely relived. "Thank god," she said, "now you can take my place."

"Your place in what?" Kate questioned, perplexed. Before the younger girl could answer, they were interrupted by a tornado of a woman blowing into the entry way.

"Ah," the older, red-haired woman began, grabbing each of Kate's hands in hers and holding her arms out to get a better look. She wore a flowing tunic containing every color of the rainbow over top of dark green trousers. "You must be the professor."

"Leave her alone, Mother." Castle's exhausted-sounding response came from across the apartment.

Kate turned towards the sound and did a double take. Despite being in a robe, Castle also appeared to be wearing some sort of gold crown. Before she even had a moment to contemplate what sort of crazy scene she had entered, Kate was brushed aside as Alexis made her way out the door.

"Love you Gran! Bye!"

"Oh Alexis wait! Oh," the elder woman's face fell when the door slammed shut despite her protest. She turned her gaze on Kate and smiled. "No matter. You'll do just fine. You do know how to waltz, right?"

"I know how to—what!?" Kate replied. Castle's mother paid her no attention. Instead, she took Kate's bag, tossed it down beside the sofa, and pulled her towards the center of the sitting room. When they reached the edge of the open area between the sofa and grand piano, she gave Kate a light shove in Castle's direction.

When she stopped beside him, Castle scooped up Kate's left hand and pressed a kiss onto the back of it. "M'lady," he said dramatically.

Kate's mind spun. She thought the laser tag incident would be the strangest thing she would find inside the Castle residence, but it appeared that was looking downright normal compared to whatever was going that Thursday morning. "What's happening?"

"Oh my dear, I am terribly sorry. I was so caught up in the moment, I forgot to introduce myself. Martha Rodgers," the colorfully dressed woman said, extending her hand to Kate. Kate reciprocated the handshake, albeit weakly. The moment their hands separated, Martha plopped a metallic plastic crown atop Kate's head. It was the exact replica of the one the writer wore.

As Martha turned away and walked towards the kitchen, Kate reached up, pulled the crown off her head and examined it. It appeared to be a child's prop that could have been purchased at any dollar store in Manhattan. In fact, several of the glued on faux gems were missing, leaving globs of hardened glue behind. Still feeling as though she had entered an alternate reality, Kate looked up at Castle and asked, "Where am I?"

He swept his hands wide as he slid back from her. "On the Broadway stage of course!" he said, projecting his voice as though he was in a theater.

"No….?" she responded, though it was more of a question than a statement.

Castle leaned towards her and half covered his mouth with his hand as though he was trying to tell her a secret. In an extremely loud whispered tone, he said, "You're supposed to use your imagination."

"Yes, yes—the imagination!" Martha said as she returned holding a bound script. "The most important tool in an actor's tool belt."

Kate gazed at the woman with the script. Slowly, this was beginning to make sense. She turned to Castle and asked quietly, "Did your mother write a play?"

Castle let out a loud laugh. "Good god no; that would be dreadful."

"Richard!"

"Sorry Mother, but please leave the writing to me," he informed her. Then he turned to Kate. "She's an actress; we're helping her rehearse."

"We…are?!" she asked with mild horror.

"Well, Alexis and I were, but she's gone now so…yes," he concluded, "we are."

Without waiting for a response from her, Castle scooped up Kate's right hand in his left and grabbed her left wrist with the right, using it to place it atop his shoulder. Once his right hand was at her waist he nodded towards his mother. "We're ready."

"For wha-ah! Castle—watch it!" she snapped when he stomped on her left foot.

"Well you're supposed to move—it is a dance," he said in an isn't-it-obvious-way.

"But…there's no music!"

"Imagination my dear," Martha said, tapping her index finger to her temple. "Now, the scene opens with the prince," she gestured dramatically to her son, "dancing with a lovely princess from a far off land."

That time, Kate was ready for the dance to begin, and managed to move her feet in time with his. Fortunately, he was doing a simple box step so she was able to keep up, though she still was unsure why she was participating at all.

"Yes, very good," Martha coached. "And now I, as the fairy godmother, enter the scene." Martha walked up to the dancing duo and grabbed Kate's right hand out of Castle's. She pulled the girl away and stood between them, stating in a dramatic tone. "NO! You must not dance with this girl! She will be your demise!"

As Martha directed more lines towards her son—er, the prince—Kate's confusion grew steadily. They certainly weren't rehearsing any play she'd ever seen before.

"Reset please!"

Martha's announcement pulled Kate from her confusion. She stepped towards Castle and they resumed their dancing posture. This time, she noticed, Castle held her a bit closer; close enough for her to smell the minty remnants of mouthwash on his breath.

"Now I'm not sure," Martha said, approaching them, "if I should grab the wrist," she grabbed Kate's wrist as she'd done before, "or the shoulder," she moved her hand up to Kate's shoulder and forced her body to twist away from Castle's.

"I like the wrist grab; seems more forceful," Castle informed her. Martha smiled, nodded, and instructed them to begin dancing one more so she could run the scene again.

"Uh, what play is this?" Kate asked Castle quietly as they waltzed.

"One no one will ever see."

"I heard that!" his mother snapped.

Castle smiled a butter-won't-melt-in-my-mouth grin at her. "Oh Mother, you know you're a star in my eyes."

Martha rolled her eyes and flicked her left hand in the air. "Please."

After running through the scene two more times, Martha released her two stand-in actors, collecting their crowns as they left the living room bound for Castle's office. There, he set Kate up with his writings from the prior evening while he excused himself to the bedroom to change. Kate held the papers loosely in her hands for several moments as she glanced back out into the siting area, trying to figure out what had just taken place. When, after the end of several moments of contemplation, she could not rationalize any of it, she merely shook her head and turned to her critiquing.

As the morning progressed, it became obvious that Castle was in no mood to focus on writing. He continually played with toys on and around his desk and asked Kate, "What did you say?" after almost everything she said. By one p.m. she expressed her frustration by balling up a piece of paper and throwing it at him as he lay back in his chair, balancing the Darth Vader stress ball on his forehead. The crumpled paper ball hit him squarely on the chin and he whined, "What was that for?"

"Pay attention!"

"I caaaaaaaan't," he cried. "Let's go out for a walk."

She arched an eyebrow and folded her arms over her chest. "Should I get your leash or do you promise not to run into traffic?"

"Ha-ha," he replied. "Seriously. I need to go out and experience the world—find some inspiration."

"That sounds like BS."

He shrugged. "Touché. C'mon let's just go for a little walk! We'll get lunch while we're out and then when we come back I promise I will pay better attention to my book."

Kate sighed heavily and set the stack of manuscript papers in her lap up on the desk. "I don't have much of a choice, do I?"

"Nope," he beamed. Castle led the way out of the apartment and to the elevator. Once inside, he glanced down and saw that Kate was wearing sandals and ankle-length black pants. Those coupled with her tank-top style blouse made her look almost casual—almost. At least she had shed the matronly heels she'd been wearing the prior week (though he was certain that was due to the great amount of ribbing she received from him on the subject).

"So…your mother seems interesting," Kate stated once they were strolling down the streets of Manhattan.

Castle laughed. "That's one word for it."

"Has she always been an actress?"

"Yes, she did a lot of work when I was younger—she was even nominated for a Tony, but she hasn't had many parts in…wow, I guess it's been almost a decade." Castle stuffed his hands down in his pockets. "I feel bad for her, you know? Because she loves being on stage so much, but she never gets the chance. It would be like if someone took my laptop away and I could only write with pen and paper…with my feet."

Kate laughed. "That's a pretty good mental image—maybe you should try it."

He chuckled. "Maybe I should."

"That's a shame about your mother though. Maybe she'll get this fairy godmother role."

"Oh she can get the parts…but unfortunately the shows close after just a few weeks." He clarified.

"Ah," Kate concluded. "That would be a problem."

"Yeah, but fortunately perseverance is one of my mother's best qualities. Hey!" He stopped walking and pointed out towards the street. "Sweet bike!"

A few feet away, a man Kate judged to be in his late teens or very early twenties stood beside a bright blue motorcycle. On the body of the bike, silver and metallic blue flames were painted in an interesting design, giving quite a unique effect. Though the paint job was interesting, Kate did not see anything else extraordinary about the bike.

"Thanks!" the bike's owner said. Then, he did a double take. "Wait, you're that writer, right? Richard Castle? My mom loves your books! Will you sign something for her?"

"Sure," Castle smiled. "What do you want me to sign?"

For a moment, the young man looked panicked. He touched the front pockets of his jeans, then the back to no avail. He then began scanning the sidewalk and street around him, as though something useful would magically appear. "I-I live right upstairs. I'll go get one of her books—will you wait?" he asked hopefully.

Castle considered this for a moment. "Tell you what—if I can take your bike for a spin around the block while you get the book, I'll sign it."

"Deal!" the kid announced without a second thought. He tossed Castle the keys and then sprinted off towards the apartment building entrance.

With an expression reminiscent of childhood glee, Castle approached the bike, cradling the keys in his hands. He swung one leg over the seat and nudged the kickstand into its retracted position. When he sat down, Kate stepped up beside him. "Do you even know how to ride this thing?" she asked with utmost skepticism.

"Sure!" His expression faltered for a moment as he examined the handle bars. "Which one is the break again?"

"That one," she said, pointing.

Castle squeezed the handle and smiled at her. Then, he shoved the keys into the ignition and turned, causing the bike to roar to life. "Hop on," he smiled back at her.

"No way!" she said, taking a step back and raising her hands up in front of her.

"C'mon Kate—live a little!" He winked at her.

She bit her bottom lip and stared at him. "The only way I'm getting on that bike with you is if I'm driving."

He laughed as though she'd suggested flapping their wings and flying as an alternate means of travel. "But you can't."

She placed one fist on her hip. "How do you know that?"

Castle cocked his head to the side and blinked at her. Surely….surely not. But…really? "No. No…No?" he said, sounding genuinely confused. Her expression seemed so serious, but biker chick did not easily mesh with her literature professor persona.

"I got a bike when I was seventeen now scoot back," she instructed simply. Castle did as she asked and she stepped onto the bike in front of him. They donned helmets before Kate reached forward and tested out the grip of each handle. She felt his hands settle on her hips when she kicked the bike into gear which, given her sandals, was a bit more difficult than she anticipated. Cautiously, she eased the bike out into traffic and then, once they were clear of buses and cabs, she cranked the gearshift and sped suddenly, resulting in Castle grabbing onto her waist with both arms.

Kate laughed to herself, imagining the shocked expression on the writer's face. She took the bike two blocks north before cutting west and heading back towards the apartment building. For Castle's benefit, she sped the bike up the best she could in traffic until they returned to their point of origin.

Once the bike was parked neatly against the sidewalk, she realized that her waist was still in Castle's death grip. And, if she was not mistaken, his entire torso was pressed up against her back. Feeling suddenly uncomfortable, she poked at his forearm with her finger. "Castle we've stopped; let go."

"Sorry," he said quickly, releasing her.

Kate swung her leg over to dismount the bike. She took off her helmet and raked her fingers through her hair to attempt to undo the helmet affect. When she turned around to see Castle also helmet-less, she couldn't help but laugh at his disheveled hair and half terrified, half sated expression. He looked as though he'd just had acrobatic sex in a wind tunnel. "You okay, Castle?"

He looked at her and blinked. "That was amazing."

Kate eyed the bike and shrugged. "It's a nice bike, but mine was much more powerful," she said simply.

Before Castle could open his mouth to speak again, they were interrupted by the bike's owner, who turned out to be a twenty-year-old kid named Danny. Kate returned the helmets to the back of the bike while Castle signed his mother's book. After Danny thanked him profusely, the two continued on their stroll down the Manhattan streets.

"Okay, I have to know the bike story," Castle told her very seriously.

She laughed. "It's not all that interesting. I was a fairly straight-laced kid, but that bike was my form of rebellion. I paid for it with my own money so it wasn't the best. It was loud and a little rusted. My father absolutely _hated_ it, which, as you probably know since you have your own teenage daughter, only made me love it more."

"Ah, yeah, Alexis really hasn't entered her rebel phase yet, but thanks for thoroughly terrifying me about it."

Kate gently elbowed Castle as they walked. "Don't worry, Castle; I'm sure everything will work out fine, but I guess I won't tell you about the grungy guitar playing boyfriend I got right after the bike."

"Please don't," he said with an almost whimper.

For the next hour, they walked around the city, talking their way through an amalgamation of topics. They grabbed burgers and ate as they walked. When they arrived back at Castle's building, Kate thanked Castle for the enjoyable afternoon. "You're actually kind of fun to be around—sometimes."

"Thanks," he said with an eye roll. "But you're not so bad yourself, Professor. Hey—what are you doing Saturday night?"

"Why…?" she asked suspiciously.

"Black Pawn is having an event. It's some fundraiser thingie they're involved in. You should come; bring your boyfriend," he added with a shrug.

"Oh," she grimaced. "I don't know. Paul's not really a party person."

Castle took a step towards her. "But it's at an art gallery—he'd like that, right? C'mon—free food, free booze; what's to lose?"

Feeling put on the spot, Kate tried to answer as diplomatically as she could. "Well, I'm not sure; I'll ask him though."

"Great!" Castle smiled. "You guys will have fun—I promise."

"Great," Kate echoed, knowing full well that something Castle found to be fun would most assuredly be something Paul _did not_ find fun.


	7. Chapter 7

**Seven**

"Remind me why I'm doing this again?" Paul asked as he finished knotting his navy blue tie before folding down the collar of his shirt.

"Because," Kate said as she exited the bathroom wearing the only "little black dress" she owned, "you love me and I asked you to go."

"But it's going to be awful," he concluded, flopping down on the edge of the bed with a sigh.

Kate retrieved her black heels from beside the bed and slipped the right one on. "You don't know that. Besides, it's free food and free booze—how bad could that be? They might even have those fancy cheeses you like," she enticed with a smile.

He eyed her suspiciously. "I think you're spending too much time with Richard Castle."

She shrugged, not seeing how her time with Castle connected to this conversation outside of the fact that he was the one that procured their invite. "Even if that's true I only have one more week with him."

"Thank god—then we can go back to normal!"

* * *

"So, seriously, we don't have to stay here long, right? Like, twenty minutes?" Paul asked when they arrived at the midtown art gallery.

Kate looked at him, her jaw slightly agape. "Twenty minutes? I think you can last at least an hour."

Paul grumbled but said nothing else as they walked up to the entrance. Signs on the exterior of the gallery indicated there was a private party inside for Black Pawn's Childhood Literacy Advocacy group. A petite blonde at the door wearing a headset verified that their names were on the guest list before allowing them to pass.

Immediately inside the door, Kate and Paul each took flutes of champagne from the closest waiter and shuffled their way through the crowd of people hovering around the entrance. A few feet into their journey, the crowd broke and they were able to see some of the art displays. The theme, Kate noted from a nearby poster, was the written word. She smiled; how very fitting.

"Who are all these people anyway?" Paul asked, scrunching his nose as a man bumped into him while passing by.

"Wealthy donors I'd imagine," Kate responded before taking another sip of her champagne. "C'mon let's look around. Maybe we'll find Castle."

"And won't that be a treat!"

Kate gave her boyfriend a warning glance. "He got us these tickets, Paul. Besides, he said he wanted to meet you."

Paul muttered something to himself that Kate did not hear, so she merely led the way towards the back of the gallery. There, the crowds were significantly less, so they were able to peruse the art without being continuously bumped into. Fifteen minutes later, as they were making their way back towards the front of the gallery, Kate spotted a tuxedo-clad figure approaching them and only recognized him from his book jackets.

For the duration of their two weeks together, Castle's attire at all times was casual at best. More often than not, it was simply his pjs. Also, not once did he shave or do anything with his hair other than attempt (and fail) to pat down a few cowlicks with his hands. As he approached her now, he was in a state she dared to call handsome. Clean shaven, hair combed and lightly styled, and of course the black bow tie didn't hurt. When she caught his eye, Kate gave a subtle wave, suddenly feeling silly wearing a dress she got off the clearance rack at Macy's when he was clearly in a custom suit.

"Kate. You look lovely," he said, swooping in to kiss her cheek. Then he smiled at the man beside her. "You must be Paul. Richard Castle; pleasure to meet you."

"Dr. Paul Cranston," Paul said, shaking the man's hand with as much strength as he could manage. Though, with Castle having three inches of height and probably a solid fifty pounds of body mass, it really wasn't much of a contest.

"I'm so glad you could both make it. Are you enjoying yourselves?"

"Yes, thank you. These pieces are quite interesting," Kate said politely.

"Yes, and they serve as a constant reminder that I should be at home writing," he told her with a wink. Then, he turned to Paul. "I have to tell you, Paul, you're a very lucky man. Kate is an amazing woman and you're fortunate to have her."

Paul looked over at Kate, who was blushing slightly, and nodded. "Thank you; I feel the same."

"You'd better hurry up and marry her before someone else snatches her away," Castle said, mostly in jest. Paul, however, did not take the joke.

"Well, that's a nice thought, Mr. Castle, but I don't actually believe in marriage."

Castle blinked; surely he had heard the man wrong. "Excuse me?"

"I don't believe—we don't believe—in marriage," Paul repeated. "It's a silly, antiquated ritual that is really quite unnecessary in today's society."

Castle stared at the man for a moment before allowing his gaze to drift towards Kate, who appeared to be trying to drown herself in her flute of champagne; she was completely avoiding his gaze. "I'm sorry; I don't understand. What part of marriage is unnecessary?"

"All of it," Paul stated. "Why do we have to have a piece of paper from the government certifying our commitment? It really is quite absurd. We're committed to each other, of course, and in a way, this is even more of a commitment."

The writer's brow wrinkled. "How so?"

"Well, either of us could leave at any time without legal ramifications. But, instead, we stay." Paul looped his arm around his girlfriend's shoulders and she offered him a clearly forced smile.

Castle gazed at his lovely writing consultant. The expression on her face made his stomach flip in his gut. He knew it all too well. It was the same one he wore every time his mother rambled on about how theater and stage acting was a million times better than any movie or television show that could ever be created. The expression was clear disagreement masked by politeness.

Clearing his throat, Castle turned back to the grinning gentlemen. "What is your field again? Kate told me you were a professor."

"Social psychology."

Castle took a swig from his own glass. "Ah yes, that's right. Why did you choose that?"

"Well," Paul began, pushing his glasses up a bit further onto his nose. "I find people fascinating – their actions and the reasons behind them."

The writer nodded with a smile. Finally something he could relate to! "Hey, me too!"

Paul blinked at him. "Excuse me?" His expression made it seem as though Castle suggested they swap places with the waiters serving food throughout the room.

"I love observing people," Castle explained. "Why they do what they do—the story behind it. That's where I get my novel ideas from." He shrugged. "So I guess we have that in common."

Paul let out a haughty chuckle. "I'm sorry, Mr. Castle, but between your works of fiction and my academic studies there is absolutely no comparison."

"Paul," Kate said warningly.

Unfazed, Castle plopped his empty glass on a passing waiter's tray before turning back to the professor. "Well I guess that's true—my books have been read by millions." He turned to Kate and said, "Excuse me," before walking off towards the other guests.

"What an insufferable human being," Paul concluded when Castle was out of earshot. He turned to Kate. "I don't know how you've spent the past two weeks with him!"

Kate flicked her eyes towards Castle, who was laughing with a few other party guests. Turning back to her boyfriend she said, "You shouldn't have been rude to him; he invited us here."

"He shouldn't have been rude to me!" Paul insisted. "Are you ready to go yet? We've met the writer—isn't that enough?"

"We haven't seen any of the pieces on the other side of the gallery," she insisted. Paul huffed out a breath. "Just a few more minutes?"

As Kate toured the rest of the pieces of art, giving pleasant smiles to passersby who mostly ignored her, Paul shuffled along behind her sulking like a petulant child. She attempted to engage him in conversation, but he continually ignored her. And, if he did choose to make a comment, it was with a heavy sigh and a, "Are you done yet?"

Finally, fed up, Kate said in a tone a bit louder than she should have used, "You know what, Paul? If you want to leave, why don't you leave? I'm not done looking at the art, but by all means don't let me keep you here."

"Fine," he concluded before thrusting his empty champagne glass at the nearest waiter. With that, he stormed out of the gallery, loosening his tie as he went.

Not ten seconds later, as she was still fuming in the direction of the exit, Castle appeared in front of her. She had no idea he was nearby, but if he had been, she imagine he'd heard their conversation. With a sympathetic look he asked, "Can I get you anything?"

"Another drink," she practically growled at him. She folded her arms over her chest and did not move from her spot. He returned a few minutes later with a glass tumbler filled with ice and an amber liquid. When he held it out to her, an expression of mild surprise crossed her face. Her comment had been more rhetorical than an actual request, though given her irritated state, she did not feel in a position to turn down alcohol.

"You a scotch-on-the-rocks girl?" he asked.

She snatched the glass from him. "Not really." With that, she took a gulp so large it made her cough slightly, but she managed to recover and turn back towards the closest piece of art.

"Anything else I can do?"

"I'm fine, Castle. I just need a few minutes," she said, not looking at him. From her peripheral vision, she could see him start to turn away so she added, "Thanks for the drink."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Kate had wandered up to the narrow balcony overlooking the main area of the gallery. There, a dozen art pieces hung on the walls and she took her time looking at each of them. Halfway across the area, she bumped into a familiar figure: Castle's ex-wife-slash-publisher, Gina.

They exchanged pleasantries before Gina asked, "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Yeah, it's…different," Kate said, gazing down towards the party guests. She spotted Castle laughing so hard he was almost doubling over. He griped onto the shoulder of the tuxedo clad man beside him and they howled together. Kate did not realize a small smile had grown on her face at the sight. Gina, on the other hand, took note.

"A word to the wise, Kate," she began. "Don't let yourself become another one of his conquests. You might think it's worth it, but it's not."

Kate rotated her head towards the blonde woman, her jaw hanging slightly agape for a moment before she regained her composure and straightened her expression. "Trust me; that' won't be a problem."

Gina eyed her knowingly. "You may think that now but…" She shrugged and took a sip of her red wine. "Well, fortunately you're a smart woman. Intelligence is generally the only defense system against his charms."

She let out a breathy chuckle. "He certainly is charming…among other things."

"Mm yes. Don't get me wrong—he's a good man…when he wants to be," she added.

From her tone, Kate knew there was more to the story, and she hazarded to guess it had to do with Gina's divorce from the writer. Feeling the influence of her champagne and scotch, Kate abandoned her usual "no gossip" policy and asked, "Is that why it didn't work between you two?"

Gina's eyes widened momentarily before she shook her head. "Ah, no. Rick and I…well, we came to realize that aside from in the bedroom we didn't have a whole lot in common. I got bored; I moved on. I mean, honestly, who wants to stay in on a Saturday night? _Every_ Saturday night? I mean, this is New York City for Christ's sake! You can read and play video games during the week!"

"Right…" Kate nodded and smiled when Gina excused herself. As she watched the blonde walk away, she could not help but answer to herself: _I_ like staying in and reading on Saturday nights. In fact, she had done so for probably eighty percent or more of the Saturdays during her adult life.

"Boo!"

A voice immediately behind her left ear caused Kate to jump and nearly drop her glass. She turned around to see a smirking Castle proud that he had startled her. "Sorry; couldn't resist."

"Uh huh," Kate said, rolling her eyes as she drained the last of her scotch.

"I saw you talking to Gina. She wasn't trying to get you to join her coven, was she?"

"Mm, she was, and she presented a convincing argument but ultimately I had to decline; vampire red really isn't my color."

"Oooh," Castle said with a laugh. "So after a few drinks the professor becomes a funny girl. Maybe the loft should have a one shot minimum." Her only reaction was to blink at him, so he laughed a bit louder. "C'mon Kate—smile. How about a funny story? That'll cheer you up, right?"

"Sure," she said in an unconvinced tone.

"When I was in high school, a couples buddies of mine and I put a cow on the roof of the school."

Kate's jaw dropped. "A cow!? On the roof? Where'd you get the cow?"

He shrugged. "Knew a guy."

"Knew a guy?! At seventeen you 'knew a guy' who could procure you a cow in Manhattan?"

"I was eighteen; it was senior year," her clarified. "And yeah, I did."

Kate shook her head. "That poor cow."

"Oh," he said waving his hand casually. "Bessie was fine. In fact, I bet she enjoyed it—she had a great view."

Kate laughed. "I'm sure."

They stood in a comfortable silence for a few minutes before Castle said, "So are you ready to get out of here?"

"Ah," she said, gazing around for a moment, "sure, I guess, but-"

"Great—I'll take you home."

She tiled her head to the side and looked at him. "Castle, that's nice, but completely unnecessary."

"I disagree. Paul left you here alone."

"And I'm a soon-to-be-thirty-year-old lifelong New York resident; I can get home by myself," she told him pointedly.

"But," he countered. "I'm a gentlemen and I won't rest unless I know you've made it home safely. So…" He held his arm out dramatically, encouraging her to take it. With a reluctant sigh, she did, and allowed him to lead her down the balcony steps. She waited for a few minutes as he bid goodbye to a few partygoers and then led the way out onto the street where a black Lincoln was waiting for them.

"So where are we headed?" he asked her once they were in the car.

"Tribeca."

"Ah see! Perfect—that's on my way home."

She stared at him. "No it's not."

"Well…it's more on my way home than if you lived in the Bronx," he rationalized. She said nothing, but turned her gaze out the window.

After about twenty blocks of silence, Castle said quietly, "I'm sorry about Paul."

Kate glanced over to him. "I think I'm the one that should be apologizing to you. It's just that…well, he doesn't like large group of people. He gets overwhelmed and sometimes he says some things that aren't exactly…"

"Appropriate?" Castle offered. She nodded. Castle considered this for a moment. "Well, I'm glad you don't seem to be suffering from the same affliction. You seemed like you belonged there tonight."

A breathy chuckle escaped her lips. "Yeah right."

"No, you did. You were taking it all in. I think you probably understood those art pieces better than I did!"

She turned her head and arched an eyebrow at him. "But would that really be hard?"

He laughed. "No, I suppose it wouldn't be. Art connoisseur I am not."

As they neared Tribeca, Kate gave more detailed instructions to their driver to direct him towards her apartment building. When they arrived outside, Castle insisted on getting out of the car and walking her to the door, though she informed him that was completely unnecessary. It did, however, afford her another opportunity to thank him for his invitation to the party that evening.

"You are most welcome." He smiled. For a moment, they stared at each other awkwardly, neither certain of the proper way to close the evening. Castle made the first move, holding out his arms and going in for a hug. Kate reciprocated, though somewhat clumsily.

As he went to pull back, Castle moved his lips against her face, meaning to kiss her cheek, but she pulled back a bit too quickly for his approach and he ended up kissing the corner of her mouth instead. They locked eyes for a moment, both of them breathing a bit heavier than they should have been, before Kate twisted away from him and called out, "Goodnight! Thanks for the ride!" as she hurried inside the building, not once looking back.


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: Okay, I've been ignoring the hate-fest going on in the comments, but now I feel the need to say something. I know you guys want to read a story about Kate and Castle not Kate and Paul, but this story is about Kate and Castle and how, with each chapter, they learn a little bit more about each other. The story is completed and I stand by the way its written. If you don't like it, I'm sorry about that, but you don't have to keep reading; I won't be offended. _

* * *

**Eight**

On Monday morning, Castle awoke at the atypically early hour of eight-thirty a.m. By ten, when his consultant arrived, he had showered, dressed, eaten breakfast, and even added a few more notes to his outline. This, he decided, was going to be his most productive week ever. That was, if he survived the morning.

Despite only knowing Kate for a little more than two weeks, the events of that weekend made it clear to Castle that he had to confront her about his feelings on her boyfriend and his behavior. True, this was slightly overstepping given their minimal knowledge of each other, but he just couldn't help himself. He could not stand idly by while someone he considered a friend lived in such a situation. As he still did not know her very well, he was unsure of what her reaction to his opinion would be, but he hesitated to guess it would not be a positive one.

When Kate knocked on the door to Castle's apartment, she was shocked that for the first time the writer himself greeted her with an alert smile. "C-Castle," she stammered with surprise. "Good morning."

"Good morning to you, Kate. Can I get you some coffee?"

"Ah…" She eyed him suspiciously as she stepped in the house. She had yet to see him this chipper and certainly never this early in the morning; it was almost a bit unnerving. "No, thanks; I'm good."

"Great. So did you have a nice Sunday?"

"Uh, yes," she said, her suspicion growing. "Did you?"

"I did. So…how's Paul?"

Kate groaned and walked past him in the direction of the office. So that was why he was acting so strangely. He'd been lulling her into a false sense of normalcy so that he could pounce. "It's Monday morning, Castle; don't start."

"Hey," he said, raising his hands defensively as he followed her. "It's just a question."

"He's fine; Paul's fine," she answered simply.

"Really?" he asked, his voice half an octave higher than normal. "Because he seemed a little touchy on Saturday night. Oh, and, by the way, that whole 'marriage is an antiquated ritual' shtick of his—that's utter BS. You don't believe that, do you Kate?"

She lowered her eyes and side-stepped the question. "Paul and I are in a committed relationship."

"That's not what I asked," Castle responded. When, after a minute, she had said nothing, he continued. "I saw your face, Kate. You don't agree with him. You want to get married, don't you? I mean, who doesn't?"

"What does it matter?" she sighed, dropping her purse to the floor and planting both her fists at her hips. "Commitment is the same thing."

"It's not actually." He took a step towards her and softened his tone. "C'mon Kate."

She groaned as he continued to stare her down. "Fine. Maybe I don't believe in marriage."

"Why not?"

"I don't know!" she practically growled as she took a step towards him. "Why don't you tell me? Why should I? You did it twice and look how well that worked out!"

The moment the words left her lips she regretted them. She watched him look away, clearly singed, and her chest contracted uncomfortably. "I-I'm sorry," she said quickly. "That was uncalled for and I apologize."

"It's okay," he said. He didn't look at her until he'd walked around behind his desk. "It's my fault; I was riling you up on purpose."

She nodded and took a seat across from him, assuming they would get to work, though she couldn't have been more wrong.

"Look," he continued, "I didn't want to say anything Saturday night because you were already upset, but you've got to be kidding me with this guy. I mean, Kate, seriously; he's a complete tool bag."

She bit on her lip for a moment in an attempt to prevent herself from saying anything else rash. "He…it was just a bad night for him."

Castle tilted his head to the side and looked at her, disgusted with her defense but trying not to let it show. "Kate…"

"Paul just—he just—it takes a while to warm up to him."

"Are you out of excuses yet?" Castle challenged.

She pulled her lips tight together and stared, silently cursing him for pushing all her buttons—all the wrong ones. "Look, we've been together for a long time. We have a history."

"How long is long?"

"Over five years."

"The whole time you were in grad school?" he questioned.

She nodded. "That's where we met."

Castle shook his head, still not comprehending her reasoning. "And so that just…justifies how he treats you? The length of time you've been with him?"

"What? No. He doesn't treat me—I mean, it's not. Ah!" She let out a half-scream of frustration and slammed her hands down in her lap. "I really don't want to talk about this. Can we change the subject please?"

"Fine," he conceded, "but for the record I think you deserve better."

They stared at each other for a solid minute as his assessment hung in the air. He was the first to break, turning his eyes to the desk where he picked up an inch high stack of pages and tossed them in front of her.

Slowly, she turned her eyes towards the pages. Her brow wrinkled. "Wow…that's really long for the next chapter."

"It's not. That's chapters one through three of a new story."

Kate blinked at the writer. Surely she had heard him wrong. "Excuse me?"

"A new story; I started a new story yesterday. Well, technically, Saturday night around eleven-forty-five p.m."

"A new story? A new story!?" she repeated as the shock settled in.

"Yeah," he sighed, picking up a stress ball and tossing it between his hands. "I just wasn't feeling the other one. I mean, I guess I won't totally scrap it; it has potential, but this one is much, much better—check it out," he smiled at her.

Kate scooted forward on her seat so that she could rest one of her forearms against his desk. She took a deep breath and with every ounce of self-control, she managed to keep her voice at an even level. "Just to be clear: you're starting over on week three of a three week arrangement for me to consult on the novel you should have finished by now?" Furious. She was, in a word, furious. This was positively and utterly ridiculous.

"Ah, yeah," he cringed and tossed the stress ball onto the desk. "About that. I was actually hoping we could extend. I mean, school doesn't start for a few weeks yet, right? Another two weeks after this and I know this story will be great—really great. What do you say? I'll make sure Black Pawn continues your same weekly rate. Hell, I'll have them up it to a thousand a week."

Kate's jaw opened, but no sounds came out as she stared across at his enticing smile. Finally, she stammered, "I…can't."

His brow furrowed. "What do you mean you can't?"

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm leaving."

Castle felt his entire body deflate. His shoulders rounded and his heart descended towards his intestines. "What?" he asked in a tone barely above a whisper.

Kate shook her head, closed her eyes and swallowed hard to regain her composure. When she opened her eyes again, she answered in a steady voice. "I'm moving. On August first, Paul and I are moving to Illinois."

"Illinois?" Castle asked, his voice regaining strength. "What the hell is there?"

"Paul he—he got a job at the University of Illinois. We're leaving August first," she repeated.

"You're leaving New York?"

She nodded.

Castle could hardly believe what he was hearing. This was so unexpected! "Do you even have a job there?"

"Yes. Yes, of course. I'll be an adjunct professor. It's not in my field exactly—it's a general literature class for first year students, but that's okay. It's only for one year. I'm hoping something else will open up."

Castle leaned back in his chair, considering this for a moment. "Well, it's Chicago, right? There are plenty of other universities-"

"No," she corrected. "Champagne, Illinois. There aren't any other schools there. In fact, there isn't much of anything there," she added with a soft smile.

He blinked at her. This was too much! Not only was she living Manhattan—the state—the east coast! But she was leaving city life all together. "You're moving to suburbia!?"

"Actually," she said with the hint of a grimace, "I don't know if its populated enough to even be called that."

"Oh," he concluded. Grabbing Vader's head, he squeezed it heartily. "Wow, Kate, that's…wow. Well, ah, tell Paul I said congrats on the job."

She smiled demurely and nodded. "Thanks; I will."

"So," he concluded sadly, "I suppose we only have four days left after today."

Kate bobbed her head. "Yes."

"Well then, uh," he cleared his throat and pointed towards the pages. "I guess you'd better get reading."

She scooped up the stack and read the top of the first page. Unlike his previous work, this one had a title. _Code Cracker_. She looked up at him. "What's this one about?"

Castle merely smiled at her. "Why don't you read it and see?"

Grabbing a red pen from her purse, Kate took the stack with her to Castle's loveseat and began to read. The first paragraph of the first chapter introduced her to Dr. Kaitlyn Seeger, a literature professor at NYU. As the chapter opened, the newly anointed PhD was just finishing up her last class of the spring semester.

Kate stopped reading and looked up at the smirking writer. "Is this a joke?"

He blinked at her. "Are you laughing?"

"No."

"Then it's not a joke."

"Castle," she said warningly.

His smirk grew wider. "Keep reading…"

Reluctantly, Kate turned back to the pages in front of her. The first few introduced Dr. Seeger as a young, eager professor with a love of old-world literature, particularly Greek and Italian; she was fluent in both languages. Her day proceeded normally until, suddenly, as she was leaving her office, she was jumped from behind and blindfolded. She was then dragged to a car or van, which sped off down the streets of Manhattan. When she was released from her captor's vehicle, her hood was removed, and she was introduced to a man who informed her that he was from the CIA and he needed her help. That was the end of chapter one.

Flipping over the last page of the chapter, Kate glanced up at Castle, who was watching her as though one would watch an engrossing film. "What's…what's going on here?" she asked suspiciously.

He smiled gently and angled his body towards hers ever so slightly. "Do you like it?"

Kate blinked at him then looked back to the stack of papers in her lap. After staring at them for a moment expecting a hidden explanation to appear (it never did) she turned back to the writer. "I don't know yet; I'm very confused."

"What about?" he asked seriously, sitting up a bit straighter in the chair. "Is there a paragraph I should rewrite? Make clearer?"

"No. I'm confused about," she gestured towards the manuscript and then towards him and finally all around the room, "everything."

A bemused smile crossed his face. "If you have questions, by all means—ask away."

"Is she…" she paused and looked down at the pages again, "supposed to be me?"

"To whom are you referring?"

His haughty tone made her want to slap him, but she played along. "Dr. Kaitlyn Seeger, literature professor."

Castle smiled the most innocent smile she'd seen from him yet. He placed his hand gently on his chest as he spoke. "Why Kate, as I'm sure you know by now, I write works of complete fiction."

Kate's eyes narrowed. "Don't bullshit me, Rick."

"Whoa," he laughed at her sudden sharp tone. "Relax. I think you're confusing the concept of 'written about' with 'inspired by.'"

"You cannot be serious about this!" she insisted, her tone growing more incredulous.

Ignoring her shock he simply suggested, "Why don't you read chapter two?"

"No," she stated simply, pushing herself to a standing position. "I refuse to play into your bizarre practical joke."

He stood as well. "It's not a joke—that's really the story."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "You're telling me that in just over twenty-four hours you wrote the same amount that you did it five _painful_ days during our first week of working together."

"What can I say?" he shrugged and sat down. "When inspiration strikes, it strikes."

More annoyed than ever, Kate returned to the couch and picked up the first page of the second chapter.

Stupid. This was stupid. Worse than stupid, it was pure madness. There had to be a joke in here somewhere. Either there was a picture of a bloodied corpse on a random page meant to scare her, or Castle himself would jump up at one point and yell, "Gotcha!" Because there was no way this was real.

Damn him, she thought as she folded her arms as tight as she possibly could over her chest. Why had he done this? Why had he wasted an entire day writing pages and pages for the sole purpose of getting to her, irritating her? He thought he was so damned smart but, she decided, she would not let him have the satisfaction.

Unfortunately—or, rather, for Castle, fortunately—Kate's resolve did not last long. By the second page of the second chapter she was hooked. She completely forgot that Castle was in the room watching her. And that he (possibly) wrote the entire thing as part of a ruse to press on her last nerve. Simply put: she was intrigued.

The story made no sense. Why was the literature professor kidnapped by the CIA? Why did they need her help? What did all of this have to do with a literature magazine her works were published in? Kate had no idea, but Dr. Kaitlyn Seeger and the CIA Agent Alexander "Alex" Sliver had certainly captured her attention.

Kate became so thoroughly engrossed in the tale that she let her red pen slip from her hands and drop to the floor. She didn't even bother marking the few typos she found (at least, not during this first read-though). She just kept turning page after page until, much to her disappointment, she flipped over the last one; the end of chapter three.

Methodically, she gathered up the stack of papers sitting in a disorganized mess on the couch cushions beside her. She tapped them against her knees until they reformed a neat pile. Then, she stood, walked a few steps forward, and placed the stack on the end of Castle's desk. Only then did she look at him.

Like an anxious child awaiting the shocking reveal at the end of a magic trick, Castle slid to the edge of his seat and asked, "And?"

A smile broke across her face. "I want more."

"YES!" He cheered, punching both fists in the air.

She laughed. "Seriously…where…where is this going?" The first fifty pages of the book had given her little clues as to where the story would ultimately lead. Agent Alex seemed to have a plan, but under the guise of CIA secrecy and national security, Professor Kaitlyn had not been privy to it. Instead she, like the reader, was merely along for the ride in a bizarre tale that meshed espionage and literature.

"Well," he said, his tone turning more seriously, "I'm not sure yet."

"Castle!" Her tone was mostly filled with laughter, but with the edge of exasperation.

He grinned. "Relax! I have some tricks up my sleeve. I do have ideas, but I didn't get a chance to fully outline because I was busy writing all of that," he gestured to the chapters. "That's what I'm going to do this afternoon, though—the outline."

"Great," Kate said, sitting across from him. "How can I help?"

"By editing." He nudged the chapter stack towards her. She gave him a slightly annoyed look. "What? It's what you're hired for? Besides, I don't need your help to critique the outline until, you know, I've actually written it."

"Fair enough," she concluded, though she had to admit to feeling slightly disappointed. With the prior book, they'd talked through much of the storyline together, making her feel as though she was part of the process even if it was his novel. With this one, she was so intrigued she actually wanted to be part of the process, but he was stonewalling her. At least, for the time being. She hoped that once he had some ideas on paper, he would once again need her co-outlining assistance.

* * *

By five p.m. that afternoon, Castle needed a break. He'd forced Kate out two hours earlier when she finished editing his chapters and began asking incessantly about his outline. When he realized she was sitting on the edge of her chair in the same way Alexis did when she was four-years-old and he told her that she had to wait for the fresh cookies from the oven to cool before she could eat them, he told her she needed to leave for the day and return the next. Then, they would go through the outline together.

Stretching his arms above his head, Castle arched his back until it cracked. He was making good progress on his outline. Not just the kind of progress he convinced himself was good—the kind of progress he told Gina was good—but actual good progress. Thus, he decided to reward himself with a break.

Castle fully understood and appreciated the purpose of outlines; he really did, but too much outlining stifled him and he didn't enjoy feeling too tied down in his stories. Sometimes, tales needed an organic element in order to properly flow. Some of the best lines and scenes he'd written were entirely unplanned, which was why he chose surfing the internet for inspiration for his break.

Finding nothing good on any news sites, Castle suddenly remembered a task he'd wanted to do two days earlier, but had forgotten due to his distraction with the new novel. With glee, he opened a new browser window to the Google homepage. His smile faded into one of malevolence as he typed the name Dr. Paul Cranston into the search engine.

Was he snooping on Kate's boyfriend? Your damn right he was. But he felt it was his duty as her coworker—nay, her friend—to investigate what made the psychology professor such a ginormous douche bag.

Unsurprisingly, the first result was a link to Paul's webpage on the NYU server. Castle thought to himself that page was already out of date if Paul had already accepted a position at the University of Illinois. At that sobering notion, Castle leaned back from his computer.

Kate was leaving; she was moving halfway across the country in less than two weeks. Truthfully, he hadn't given much thought to the end of their partnership. He, of course, was aware of the three week duration of their agreement, but he'd been wracking his brain so much over writing his novel that it rarely entered his conscious thought.

When he found out that she would truly be leaving in such a short period of time, his great disappointment led him to realize that he believed they would continue to see each other after their contract expired. Certainly not daily and perhaps not even regularly, but they'd still be there, living in the same city. He would have invited her to the book launch party, but now it seemed that would be impossible.

Shaking that disheartening thought from his mind, Castle turned back to his Google search results. He found one of Paul's academic papers and clicked on the link. As it turned out, he needed to pay to read the entire thing, but the abstract was displayed on the screen for free, so he began to read.

He read the first few sentences. Then reread them. Then read them a third time trying to figure out if he had simply lost his mind or if they were actually written in a language other than English. The individual words made sense for the most part, but as they were strung together they began to feel more like Pig Latin. By the second paragraph he gave up all together and hit the browser back button until he reached his search results once more, all the while muttering to himself about overly smart people.

Perplexingly, one of the search results was a YouTube video, which he found odd. Did Paul, perhaps, record his psychological lectures and upload them? If so, that was too tempting a concept to turn down.

As luck would have it, the video was not one of Paul's lectures. It was something much, much better. A thousand times better, Castle dared to think.

The YouTube video led to a website and more videos, which Castle quickly found to be his favorite discovery on the internet since Grumpy Cat. This, he decided immediately, was pure gold.

As it turned out, a woman who called herself Lavender had a website on which she sold candles. Scented candles, to be exact. Scented candles containing aromas which would enable the user to—in her exact words—unleash the goddess within one's self.

In her YouTube video, Lavender explained each of the candles in great yet clearly insane detail. While Castle was amused purely from the standpoint that Lavender was plainly a few slabs of wax short of a full candle that was not the best part. No, the best part came from Lavender's website's blog, which expressed her great joy that her son, Dr. Paul, had received a tenure track position at a prestigious Midwestern university.

Castle watched the video four times, each time laughing harder than the last. He then read every single page of her website and each blog entry, knowing full well that he'd be up before the sunrise the next morning just waiting for Kate to arrive. Now, the only trouble was finding the best way to use it as ammunition to tease her.


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: First, thank you all so much for your kind reviews! I really appreciate all of them! Second, this is my favorite chapter so far in this story. Enjoy!_

* * *

**Nine**

Tuesday morning, Kate arrived at Castle's loft just in time to meet his mother Martha in the doorway. The two women exchanged pleasant greetings before Martha let her inside, informing Kate that her son was at his desk, but she could not stick around because rehearsals were waiting for her. Kate waved goodbye and then headed towards the office, where the writer was busily tapping away at his laptop keyboard.

"Well isn't this a pleasant sight," she smiled. "Working hard?"

"Always," he responded, grinning at her over the top of his computer screen.

"More like rarely," she corrected.

He shrugged. "Did you see my mother out there?"

"Yes, she just left."

"Oh good," he smiled. He shut the screen on his laptop and walked around to her side of the desk, leaning against the corner and resting his hands against the edge on either side of his hips. "I actually have a question before we get started. If you don't mind? I'm looking for a woman's opinion."

Kate arched one eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh?"

"Yes. Mother's birthday is coming up and I'm never sure what to get her. She's really difficult to buy for—super picky—so I thought I might run my idea for her by you first and get your opinion."

Kate let out a breathy blip of almost laughter. "Me? You mean, since I know her so well…having spent a collective eight minutes in her presence."

"No, I know," he said, holding up one hand. "But this is more of a general question. What do you, as a woman, think about scented candles? Particularly those that unleash the goddess within."

Kate's jaw dropped and she stared at him, unmoving. How did he….how could he possibly…? No. There was no way. There was simply no way. But he was smirking. Smirking that god-awful smirk that made her want to slap him. A few incoherent noises escaped her lips before she managed a "How…?"

He beamed. "Google."

"Bu-but…how!?" She repeated.

"Simple. I Googled his name, one of her videos came up and that led me to her website. She mentioned a son named Paul and, well, she kind of looks like him I guess. But that's her, right? The candle goddess is Paul's mother?"

"Yes."

Castle laughed equally as hard as he had the night before. "She's a wacko!"

"Yes," Kate concluded, sitting down slowly in the seat nearest to his desk. She ran her fingers over her forehead; she could already tell this was going to be a long day.

"I mean, she's crazy—she seems crazy," he continued. "Is she legit? Like, does she really believe in that stuff?"

Kate widened her eyes momentarily; he didn't know the half of it. "Oh my, yes."

"Oh my god," he chuckled. "Just think… I know you're not getting married, but if you were…" He let his voice drift off as laughter took over.

Kate stiffened and sat a bit taller in her seat. "So what? If we would get married, I'd be marrying Paul not his mother."

"Mmm, no. That is extremely incorrect," he said with the wisdom only a twice-divorced man could possess. "You marry a family as fortunate or unfortunate as that may be. Oh man, you should have seen Gina's mom—I think she actually had horns!"

"Well," she said with a slightly snippy edge. "You're one to talk. Your mother isn't exactly boring."

"No, she's not," he conceded. "She's crazy, but she stays safely in the realm of kooky and eccentric—artsy. The candle lady is straight up crazy town. Is her name really Lavender?"

"No," she said with an air of exasperation. "It's Joyce. Lavender is the name she uses on the internet."

"Oh, so she has something in common with all those amateur porn stars—fantastic."

She glared at him. "No, because Lavender sounds more…candle-y."

"Riiiiight," he chuckled. "So what do your parents think of her? Have they met?"

Kate fought the urge to shudder at the recollection of the Thanksgiving dinner from hell. "Yes."

Scooting towards the edge of the desk a bit further, Castle inquired, "And?"

"That," she said pointedly, "is not really any of your business."

"Oh so they hated her? Perfect." He deduced.

Kate grumbled. "Let's just say they're not going to become best friends, okay? Though, to be entirely honest, they mostly hated her boyfriend and the fact that two minutes in his presence gives you a contact high."

"What?!" Castle blurted out, his laughter returning. "No way! There's a boyfriend?"

Kate shook her head and shut her eyes with self-loathing. "Why am I telling you this?"

"Because it's the best story ever!" He proclaimed. "What's the boyfriend's name?"

Kate stared at him for a moment, chewing on the inside of her lower lip. "I don't want to tell you."

"Why? What is it? C'mon—tell me!" he said, bouncing up and down with anticipation like a child waiting for a new toy.

She closed her eyes. "Bobby-Joe; his name is Bobby-Joe."

"No it's not!" Barely able to contain his fits of laughter, Castle was practically doubled over with his hands resting on his knees for support. "You're making that up!"

Kate laughed, though it was mostly from the sight of Castle's pure amusement. "I'm not; I swear. He was born Robert Joseph, but ever since he was a kid people called him Bobby-Joe."

"Oh god. That's classic," Castle said, wiping a tear of laughter from the corner of his left eye. "Where'd she meet him?"

Kate shrugged. "Who knows? I mean truly I don't. All I know is that Paul's father died when he was twelve. His mom began dating Bobby-Joe when Paul went to college. Evidently, they have a lot in common. He's…fairly into nature and holistic-type things."

"And cannabis, I take it."

"That too."

"So…he's a bit of a hippy?" Castle guessed.

Kate blurted out a loud laugh. "Yeah. Yeah he's a bit of a hippie like the Pope is a bit Catholic."

Castle nearly fell to the floor with laughter. "Oh my god, this is awesome! I want to meet these people!"

"No trust me," Kate insisted, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ears. "You don't."

"Do they live in the city?"

"God no," she responded immediately. Castle eyed her curiously. "Paul's actually from central Pennsylvania. They live in some remote area in the woods-"

"Of course," he chimed in

"-and they…they actually do a lot with the Renaissance circuit," she concluded with a cringe.

"Naturally." He nodded as though that were the most regular thing in the word. "Does she sell her goddess candles there?"

"Yes, and they have a food stand."

That time, Castle was so excited he actually stood from his seat. "Ooooh! Do they sell magic brownies?! Please, please god tell me they sell magic brownies!"

She laughed at his enthusiasm. "No, sorry. They sell Scottish eggs."

His brow furrowed. "What the hell are those?"

"Hardboiled eggs wrapped in sausage and deep fried."

"AWESOME!"

She cringed. "Yeah…it's something alright."

"And I presume since it's a Renaissance fair they dress in costume while doing all this?" He questioned. She nodded. "This is incredible. Do you have pictures?"

She shook her head. "No, we've never been to their food stand."

"Why the hell not? I want to go and I'm not even quasi-related to them!"

She rolled her eyes. "We just…we haven't gone. The timing hasn't worked out. They only started the food stand last summer and both Paul and I were teaching almost full time. And this summer with the move and everything—it's just too much."

"Plus, you don't actually want to go," he added. She pressed her lips together and said nothing. "So what does Paul think of all this?"

"Wha-I…I shouldn't have told you any of this." She shook her head, disappointed in herself. How had she told him all this? Typically, she was tight lipped about her opinion on Paul's illustrious mother due to the fact that it was a touchy subject with him. But somehow—and she didn't quite know how—Castle had her revealing everything.

"Does he have mommy issues?" Castle asked, ignoring her comment.

"I'm not answering that."

"So that means yes," he deduced. She gave him a look. "Does he visit her a lot?"

"Well, he'd probably visit more if it wasn't for the pot farm in their basement."

"Stop it," Castle laughed. "What are talking here? A few plants and a light? A few lights? More than five lights? Jesus, how many plants are there?!" He upped his guesses each time he saw her bite her lip harder.

"Let's just leave it at 'a lot.'"

"Like…the government is going to get me because pot is still illegal in Pennsylvania a lot?"

Kate shut her eyes and inhaled then exhaled sharply. "The last time we were there, which was about two years ago for Christmas, Paul and I got into a big fight because once I saw…the basement I told him I would never go back there and we most certainly would never be staying overnight there again."

He nodded knowingly. "Because you're afraid of a raid by the DEA."

"Castle! This isn't funny!" she snapped.

He attempted to suppress his giggles, though that only worked minimally. "I'm sorry. You're right; it's not funny. I mean, it's really, really funny, but I would not think it was funny if I was you and I certainly would not permit Alexis to go into such an environment. So…Paul is ok with the pot farm?"

"Not really, but every time it comes up he goes, 'Yeah, but she's my mother,'" Kate said, imitating Paul's tone.

"Ah…" He was silent for a moment before he said carefully, "Just one more question. I promise." She gazed at him obviously annoyed, but did nothing to stop him. "Have you… ever smoked pot?"

"No!"

"Kaaate," he said in a sing-song leading way. "C'mon. It's me. You can tell me. I have."

"Really?" she asked, her tone sounding more even than surprised.

He nodded. "Boarding school; it's what you did."

"And?"

"Eh," he shrugged. "Smoked it a few times in college; never really saw the point in continuing. Your turn."

"Honestly—I never smoked it. I smoked one cigarette in high school—well, specifically about one third of one cigarette and that was the end for me," she informed him.

"Okay…but have you ever had a pot brownie?" he asked. Her lips flattened together and he laughed proudly. "You have!"

"It was only once!"

"That's what they all say," he laughed. "Was it from Paul's mom?" She gave him a look that clearly said "who else?" "Did you know what it was?"

"I didn't…not know," she said carefully. "I kind of figured, but it was like peer pressure! I had to try one!"

An endlessly amused smile crossed his lips. "And?"

"It was awful. I mean it legitimately tasted awful. Paul's mom is a dreadful baker—with or without special additives."

"Oh Kate," he sighed. He walked back around to his desk chair and sat down, smiling. "I think this conversation made my week. It may have even made my month."

"I'm so glad you enjoyed it." Though her tone indicated annoyance, she wore a smile on her face. "Can we work on your story now? Did you finish your outline?"

"Kinda."

"Castle."

"What? It's hard!" he whined.

"It's your job," she countered. He merely shrugged. "Will you at least tell me where the title _Code Cracker_ came from?"

"Ah!" he grinned. "You know the article that Professor Kaitlyn published? Well, unbeknownst to her, there was actually a series of codes within that article sending secret messages to the Illuminati and-"

"The Illuminati!? Castle!" Kate groaned.

"Okay not _actually_ the Illuminati, but a group like them." He insisted as though that made it a completely legitimate storyline. "Agent Alex doesn't know what the code is, but he knows it's there and he has to crack it and a few other codes he finds—they all go together—in order to thwart an international threat of terrorism."

"So where are the other codes?"

"Dunno yet."

She rolled her eyes and sighed. "Castle…"

"What? I'm working through it—this is all part of my process. What I do know is that one code will be in Greek and the other in Italian."

"Which is why Agent Alex needs the processor with him; she's fluent in both," Kate concluded. Castle smiled at her. "Alright, Castle; I'm still intrigued. Where's chapter four?"

"I didn't write it yet," he informed her, "but I did make a few tweaks to one through three to fit with the rest of the story, so you can review them."

"And then?"

He gave her a patient smile. "Genius takes time, Professor."

Kate simply rolled her eyes.


	10. Chapter 10

**Ten**

When Kate arrived at Castle's apartment on Wednesday morning, the first thing she did was ask if he'd written chapter four of _Code Cracker_. Much to her disappointment, he had not. In fact, he had not done any writing or outlining the night before. Instead, he ordered two candles from Paul's mother's website, and spent over two hours watching a variety of YouTube videos giving instructions for homemade scented candles. While Kate did not appreciate how off-task he had been, she did have to commend him on his honesty.

Before they set to work on the revisions she was suggesting for the first three chapters, she informed Castle that she would be taking a lunch break that day as she had already agreed to meet her mother at a café near Castle's apartment. She explained that while she and Paul would be having a goodbye dinner with the Becketts that weekend, her mother wanted some one-on-one time with her daughter.

Castle, of course, had no problem with this plan. He told her to enjoy her lunch and that when she got back he would probably have something for her to read. Maybe—he didn't want to make too many promises.

Promptly at twelve-thirty, Kate met her mother at a café near Castle's loft. Thought it was late July, the day was unseasonably cool with temperatures in the mid-eighties and a gentle breeze wafting through the air. They chose to eat outside and ordered their meals quickly so they would not have to wait too long.

"How are things going with Mr. Castle?" her mother questioned as she squeezed some lemon into her iced tea and swirled it around with her straw.

"Good, actually. He seems really excited about this new book, though I don't want to get too excited yet. He wrote three chapters right off the bat but nothing since. I just hope he doesn't start over _again_," she added with a groan.

"Well, you'll have to thank him for letting you escape for an hour or two."

Kate chuckled lightly. "You'll probably be able to do that yourself."

Her mother tiled her head to the side, obviously confused. "Why do you say that?"

"Because," she explained. "When I told Castle I was leaving, I also told him where I was going and I have a feeling he'll show up."

"Why?" her mother asked.

Kate sighed and picked up her glass of water. "Because it seems like something he'd do."

Her mother merely nodded. "So are you and Paul all packed?"

"Ah, mostly. I just have a few more boxes, but I'm sure I'll finish those this weekend. Then, it'll be suitcase living until we leave—fun, fun," she added with notable sarcasm.

"Yes, I know moving is a pain, but it'll be worth it once you're all settled in Champagne. Just think—you'll have a yard!"

"Yeah," Kate laughed at the concept so novel to a Manhattanite. "Except I've never used a lawn mower—thank god Paul has!"

After a waiter delivered their salads, they ate and chatted, covering a variety of topics. They were so engrossed in discussing how Kate was going to run her class during the fall semester that she almost forgot about the possible visit from her mystery writer cohort. That is until she heard a familiar voice calling from the busy streets beside them.

"Kate?" he said with the fakest chuckle she'd ever heard from him. "I had no idea you were coming here for lunch! I was just out getting a bite myself."

"Drop the charade, Castle," she said in a tone full of annoyance. "We both know you heard me say where I was going."

"Which I'm sure you did because you subconsciously wanted me to join you," he said. Then, stepping over to the table, he turned to the older woman. "You must be Kate's mother; Richard Castle."

"Johanna Beckett," she said, shaking the writer's hand. "It's a pleasure."

"Ah, but the pleasure is all mine. And, may I just say, it's clear to see where your daughter's beauty came from."

"Castle," Kate said warningly. The last thing she needed was to watch him flirt—or, attempt to flirt—with her mother.

"Why don't you join us?" Johanna suggested, gesturing towards the empty chair at their table.

"Alright!" he agreed happily. "But just for a few minutes—I don't want to intrude."

"Of course you do," Kate muttered.

Castle ignored her. "So, Johanna, are you a professor too?"

"Actually yes; I'm a law professor at NYU. So is my husband."

"Really? Both parents are lawyers; interesting," Castle said in Kate's general direction. She gave him a curt smile. "Why didn't you pursue law, Kate?"

"She intended to," her mother answered for her.

"But then I went to school and found literature more interesting," Kate concluded.

"Well isn't that nice; a family full of professors. You must have the most interesting dinner conversations," Castle smiled at the elder woman.

She chuckled. "We do indeed." She was silent for a moment before a teenage-esque smile crossed her face. "I'm sorry, Mr. Castle-"

"Rick, please."

"Rick…but, I must tell you I have read all your books and I've thoroughly enjoyed each one."

Castle's eyes brightened. "Is that so? Well, it's always nice to meet a fan, especially one as lovely as you." While Johanna smiled, Castle caught Kate's eye roll from the corner of his field of vision. Taking the cue, he stood from his seat and bid his adieus. "I don't want to take up any more of your precious mother-daughter time. Johanna, it was lovely to meet you. Kate, I'll see you in a little bit."

"Well," Johanna concluded once he'd left the restaurant, "he certainly is a charmer."

"Oh he's something, alright," she grumbled.

Her mother rested her chin on her fist and gazed over at her daughter. "You like him." Kate gave her mother a perfect teenager "as if!" expression. "Kate," her mother continued.

"Okay, fine, he's okay-ish when he's being a normal person, but when he's being all 'Oooh I'm Richard Castle, famous writer,'" she mocked in a manly tone, "I just want to punch him."

Johanna chuckled. "I can see that."

"He's just," Kate shook her head and sighed. "He's too much. He's way, way, too much, which is why I will be very glad when this week is over."

"Will you?"

"Yes!" she insisted, though her voice did not sound as certain as she intended it to.

* * *

For both Kate and Castle the final two days of their partnership flew by despite not actually getting very much work done. Much to Kate's annoyance, Castle did not complete chapter four. In fact, as of Thursday evening, he had yet to start it. She hoped Friday morning would bring some progress, but when she arrived at his apartment she discovered that was not the case.

When she asked if he began chapter four, he ignored her question and instead said, "I got you something."

She blinked at him. "What do you mean?"

"I got you a gift—a thank you gift," he clarified with a smile.

"But," she protested, "You're paying me."

"Black Pawn is paying you."

"Same thing."

He grumbled and handed her a rectangular box wrapped in the front page of the prior morning's New York Times. "Just open it."

Gazing at him suspiciously, she ripped the wrapping off the gift and inside discovered a box of a dozen red pens. She laughed and smiled at him. "Perfect; thank you."

He nodded. "You can think of me every time you use them."

"I will. Did you start chapter four?" she asked as she tucked the pens into her purse.

"No, but I made a lot of progress on the outline. In fact, I think it's mostly finished."

"Great! Can I see it?"

"No."

Her brow wrinkled. "No?"

"Not yet, I mean," he corrected. "This one…its different." He walked over to his desk and sat on the corner. "I'm not sure…I'm not sure of everything that's going to happen yet, but I have a good feeling. A really good feeling. It feels like the beginning of Derrick Storm, which means its going to a really good place."

She smiled at him. "That's great, Castle; I'm very happy for you." They stared at each other silently for a moment before she said, "So, if you're not going to let me see your outline, what are we going to do today?"

"Ah!" he held up his index finger. "I have questions."

"Questions?" she echoed.

"About being a professor. I really want this part to be authentic. Actually," he sighed with an air of disappointment. "I wish I could observe a few of your classes."

"Fly to Illinois and you can," she responded without thinking.

He leaned towards her. "Is that an invitation?"

Kate felt some heat creep up on her cheeks. She certainly hadn't meant it to be an invitation. Recovering quickly she said, "I, um, I'm sure there's plenty of professor in this city that would let you observe a class or two. Heck, find one big enough and they won't actually know you're there," she said, thinking of NYU's several hundred student filled lecture halls.

"But none of them are you."

From his tone and the way he was looking at her, Kate was forced to turn away lest he see how ruddy her cheeks were actually becoming.

Realizing he'd embarrassed her, which was not his intention, Castle cleared his throat and quickly suggested, "Why don't we go for a walk? We can talk about life as a professor as we go."

"But," she said, turning back to him as the heat on her face subsided, "then you can't write anything down."

He shrugged. "I'll remember."

She arched one eyebrow. "Will you?"

"Maybe not. But then I'll have an excuse to call you."

She laughed. "You can't call me; you don't have my number."

He tilted his head to the side. "Yeah, why is that?"

Bemused, she folded her arms over her chest. "Is this you asking for my number?"

"I suppose so." He let the conclusion hanging in the air for a moment before formalizing it. "Kate, may I please have your number? And your email address."

"My email?"

He nodded. "Yes, how else am I going to send you chapters to review?"

"You still want that?" she asked with genuine interest. Quit honestly, she figured after that day they would be completely through.

He took a step towards her. "Yes, I want your reviews. And, by that, I mean I want you to tear my chapters limb from limb and point out everything that's stupid."

She could not help but smile. "Well, that is the best part of my day."

His expression mirrored hers. "So, can I?"

She nodded her head so vigorously that a chunk of hair fell into her eyes. She tucked it back behind her ear and said, "Yeah, I'll give you my number and my email."

Strolling down the streets of Manhattan for nearly two hours, Kate gave Castle a brief history of how she went from being a low-level editor in the San Francisco office of Black Pawn, where she worked an ungodly number of hours and was thoroughly unhappy to being a happy, well-adjusted PhD holder back in her hometown. The story, she told him, was not all that interesting. She was missing her home, so she got a job at a publisher in Manhattan only to realize that modern literature wasn't the thing that would make her happy for the rest of her life. She'd already been toying with the idea of grad school, but with her parents both working at NYU the practically free tuition was too good of a deal to pass up.

The program Kate was in throughout her tenure at the prestigious school allowed her to take classes and pursue her degree while being a teacher's assistant and then, after getting her masters, a lecturer of her own class. Granted, it was a basic level English course during which her students treated her like a piece of gum they'd discovered on their shoe after riding the subway, but it was still teaching. Despite a rocky start, she really loved what she was doing, and was all too happy to pursue it as a lifelong career.

After they grabbed lunch, their conversation topic switched to their favorite places in the city—many of which they, surprisingly, had in common. Castle told her about the first time he took Alexis to iconic places like the Empire State Building and Ellis Island, and how much fun it was to experience those things again through the eyes of a child. Kate loved listening to his stories and even shared some of her own.

At the end of the afternoon, they returned to the loft and, though neither of them openly admitted it, both were reluctant to say goodbye.

"Thank you, Kate," Castle said genuinely, "for all your help over the past three weeks."

"Oh," she said with a humble shake of her head. "Was I really that much help?"

"You were instrumental."

"And you don't think Gina will be mad your book still isn't finished?"

He shrugged. "Of course she will be, but I'll make sure she knows it's my fault not yours."

Kate folded her arms loosely across the front of her body. "You think you'll make the end of summer deadline?"

"Sure," he said in a tone that indicated he believed the goal had fifty-fifty odds.

She smiled. "At least you're confident. Good luck."

"Good luck with your move. Email me and tell me what it's like in Illinois, okay?"

She nodded. "I will. It's ah," she rocked back on her heels and shook her head. "Been interesting."

"It has."

She held her hand out for him to shake, but he shook his head, seeing such an impersonal goodbye as ill-fitting. Instead, he opened up his arms and welcomed her in for a hug. She stepped willingly into his embrace, wrapping her arms around his back and feeling the warmth of his body around hers. She noticed that they oddly shared the perfect height difference for a hug, as her chin fit neatly into the crook of his neck.

Though the typical duration of hugs between non-romantic male and female participants usually hovered around the one-to-two second mark, Kate felt herself holding on past the three second mark. Castle, it seemed, was in no hurry to rush away, so they squeezed for five seconds before sliding apart. When Kate caught his eye, she found he was gazing at her with what she deemed to be great admiration, though she could not imagine what warranted such a feeling.

She took two steps towards the door of his apartment before turning back and saying, "I'll be waiting for chapter four."

He simply nodded. "I'll talk to you soon, Kate."

She smiled back at him before turning and walking out of the apartment.

**End of Part 1**

* * *

_A/N: Don't worry guys, there's a Part 2 :)_


	11. Chapter 11

**Eleven**

Kate Beckett smiled to herself as she pressed the magic button on the single-cup coffee maker in her kitchen. While it brewed, she walked around her house opening windows and letting in the crisp October air. This was going to be a good morning.

She was not too afraid to admit to being mildly horrified for the first week in her new suburban home in Illinois. There was no subway. No corner bistros. No loud noises or gridlocked traffic. And she had to drive everywhere!

To most Americans, these things would not have been major issues as they were downright normal. For Kate, who had only lived in major cities; it was life changing.

Once her initial shock wore off, Kate grew to appreciate the quaintness of her new town. She liked having a yard (even if it did involve mowing) and a garage to put their car in that was actually attached to their home instead of eight stories below it. Her favorite thing was the lack of continuous treks up and down elevators.

True, not everything was perfect. Yes, the car was convenient, but they only had one, so if Paul was using it, Kate needed to use the bus system offered by the city. She imagined that for a suburban area the public transportation system was quite good, however it paled in comparison to Manhattan standards (even if that judgment was a bit unfair).

That particular Saturday morning she planned on enjoying a gentle fall breeze while grading her latest set of student papers. Paul had already told her he intended to sleep in, which left her plenty of peace and quiet sitting at their dining room table with her laptop on one side of her and three stacks of papers on the other: one for each of her class sections.

As she sipped her coffee and ate a toasted bagel, Kate perused some news websites to see if there was anything particularly interesting going on in the world. When she scrolled through the entertainment news section, a headline caught her eye. _New Castle Title Revealed_.

Intrigued, she clicked the link. The article was only a few sentences long, but it stated that in a press release, Black Pawn announced the title of Castle's first post-Derrick-Storm novel to be _Code Cracker_. Per the article, this book was highly anticipated since it had been over two years since the final Derrick Storm had hit bookshelves. According to an inside source, the title was to be released early the next year.

Without a second thought, Kate scooped up her phone from the table and tapped out a quick text message to Castle asking if the article was true and if _Code Cracker_ would really be coming out early the following year. With the message sent, Kate turned back to her grading.

When she and Castle parted ten weeks earlier, she was truly uncertain as to how their working relationship—if one could even call it that—would proceed. Would he continue to send her chapters of his book? Or was he simply being polite?

Her answer came the day before she and Paul were to leave for Illinois and he emailed her chapter four of the story. It appeared he was keeping up his end of their agreement, so she would as well. Unfortunately, due to the move and subsequent several day lack of internet connection, she did not get back to him as promptly as he would have liked. By August fifth, he texted her asking if she was ignoring him. Rolling her eyes, she responded and told him not to get his panties in a twist; she would read—and tear apart if necessary—the chapter as soon as she could.

After chapter four came five and six, but then the chapters ceased to arrive in her inbox. She sent him her critiques for six, but after that did not hear from him for over two weeks. Growing concerned, she texted him to make sure he was still alive. He replied that he was, but he was busy writing. When she asked where those chapters were, he informed her that he had everything under control. Besides, he wanted her to be surprised when the book was completed. She texted back to ask him if he realized his statement caused her great concern. He responded with, "Absolutely."

Kate was not so much annoyed at being excluded from his writing process as she was annoyed at what that exclusion meant. What, she wondered, was Professor Kaitlyn—the character allegedly inspired by her—up to? And what were the surprises of which Castle spoke?

Fortunately, with the onset of the school year, Kate was so busy with her new classes and understanding the inner workings of a new school that thoughts of Castle's novel were pushed to the back of her mind. He was so much out of her daily thoughts that she was actually surprised to receive a text from him at the end of the second week of September asking how her classes were going.

A week later, she emailed him a snippet of a dreadful paper that a student submitted for one of his first writing assignments. Not only was the grammar atrocious but the subject matter was painful. She just knew he would enjoy it and she was correct. He responded that it made his day and simultaneously made him sad for the future of America's youth.

Since then, they'd exchanged one or two emails a week, mostly when he'd send her a funny picture. He'd taken it upon himself to send her every humorous English or grammar related cartoon the internet had to offer. Some were funny, others were dreadful, but almost all of them made her smile. Naturally, she responded with a few writer jokes of her own and thus their email chain became and almost bizarre pen pal relationship, assuming that pen pals tried to one-up each other with career-related insults.

About an hour after her text went through to Castle, her phone vibrated indicating a response. Glancing at the screen she saw his message. _Yes, they're going for January or February; they want it out as soon as possible._

_I'm glad you finished it on time_, she responded.

_Me too. I would not have been nearly as ruggedly handsome if Gina chopped off my head._

Rolling her eyes at his message, Kate set the phone aside and turned back to her grading. Two minutes later, her phone vibrated again.

_What are you up to this morning?_

_Grading. You?_

_Planning for my annual Halloween party. If you were in the city, I'd invite you._

_Well it's the thought that counts. Is this a costume party?_

_Is there any other?_

She laughed and shook her head. _Well then I'm glad I'm not invited. _

_Y?_

_I'm not a costume girl_.

_C'mon Kate—costumes are fun._

"Yeah right," she muttered to herself. _What are you going as?_

_Don't know yet. Last year I went as a space cowboy_

_That's not a real thing_

_Neither are vampires and people dress as them. That's the point—it's HALLOWEEN_

Again, she put the phone down. That time, she'd almost read through half a paper before her phone buzzed.

_Will you and Paul go to any Halloween events this year? Dressed as yourselves, I mean_

_No_, she replied. _Paul will be at a conference the week before, so I'm sure he'll just want to stay home._

_BO-RING_, came his reply.

"Whatever you say, Castle," she sighed to herself. Then, she turned back to her grading.

* * *

With a smile on his face, Richard Castle strolled down the New York City sidewalks thinking to himself what a perfect day it was. The air was crisp, but the sun was shining. A few fluffy white clouds drifted lazily overhead. It was practically idyllic. That was until the roar of a motorcycle ruined his peaceful observation of the world.

Turning his head to the side, he spotted a woman in tight leather pants and a leather jacket revving the chopper's engine as she waited for a traffic light to turn green. The sight of the sexy woman straddling a motorcycle reminded him of Kate.

He thought about her as he walked back into his apartment building after grabbing an early lunch. It had been over a week since he'd heard from her and that, in his mind, was simply unacceptable. As he got into the elevator, he pulled out his phone and tapped a text message to her. _How many mystery writers does I take to change a light bulb?_

Back in his apartment, he sat down at his laptop and checked his email. He had one new one from Gina telling him that the final edited draft of _Code Cracker_ would be available later that week for him to sign off on. Nodding with satisfaction, Castle opened an internet browser window and tapped in Amazon's address; it was time for a little internet window shopping.

To Castle, nothing was more relaxing than the afterglow of a finished novel. Writing—particularly the writing he'd done before and during _Code Cracker_—could be stressful. Book releases with the press, public appearances, and tours, were also taxing, but the time in between was bliss. He could stay up as late as he wanted—wake up as late as he wanted—and do as he pleased each day with no one to answer to but himself…and his mother and seventeen-year-old daughter, of course.

Just as he was debating on whether he not he wanted to add an additional remote control helicopter to his collection, his phone chimed with an incoming text. It was from Kate and she had responded to his joke with nothing more than a question mark.

_2 – 1 to screw it most of the way in and 1 to give it a surprising twist at the end_

He grinned to himself as he hit the send button on his joke's punchline. He waited for her reply, glancing occasionally at the phone until the screen lit up.

_Hilarious_.

_Oh come on—that was a good one. What are you up to?_

_Waiting to see if I need abdominal surgery_

Castle blinked at the phone. Was she…being serious? That seemed an extremely odd thing to joke about. _What's going on?_ He asked her.

_I might have appendicitis_.

Without even thinking, Castle tapped the green phone icon next to Kate's name and held the device to his ear as it rang.

When the call connected, she didn't even say hello. Her only response was, "I don't think I'm supposed to make calls in the ER."

Ignoring her, he said, "So that's where you are? In the ER?"

"Yeah, but I'm fine."

"Kate, you're in the emergency room; you're not fine. What happened?"

"Nothing, I was just getting extremely nauseous and then I had pain in my lower abdomen. My dad had his appendix out so I knew the symptoms and I didn't want to risk it, you know? So I came to get checked out and now I'm waiting for my test results to come back."

He sighed. "Oh Kate, I'm sorry."

"No, it's alright." She exhaled heavily into the phone. "The good news is that they say they can probably do it laproscopically so I should heal pretty fast."

"That's good," he replied. Then, suddenly a realization hit him. "Kate…isn't Paul at a conference this week?"

"H-how did you remember that?"

"Is he?"

"Yeah, he's in Toronto," she confirmed. "He just left yesterday and he won't be back until the weekend but-"

"Kate-"

"Ah, sorry Castle gotta go."

Before he had a chance to speak again the line went dead. Castle rested his elbows on the desk, made a fist with his right hand and covered that with his left. He rested his chin atop his hands and stared blankly ahead of him.

Kate needed surgery. Kate was alone and needed surgery. This was unacceptable.

Castle pulled up a browser window on his computer and began searching for flights from the New York area to Champaign. As luck would have it, there was a flight leaving Newark at three p.m. that day. It would be tight, but he could make it.

Not even bothering to look at the last minute price of the ticket, Castle booked the flight and was in his bedroom grabbing a duffle bag before the receipt displayed on his screen. He threw jeans, a few t-shirts and sweaters, and undergarments haphazardly into the bag. From the bathroom he retrieved his toiletries and he tossed them on top of the clothes. Finally, he grabbed his phone, iPad and their respective chargers.

"Richard, I—oh," his mother stopped when she entered his office. She had evidently come home for lunch during her rehearsal break. "Are you going somewhere?"

"Illinois."

"What the hell is in Illinois?" Martha asked, folding her arms over her chest.

"Kate needs an appendectomy and her boyfriend is out of town so she's alone," he explained simply.

"Kate?" Martha's brow wrinkled. Then, a moment later, it relaxed. "Ah, the professor. Does she know you're coming?"

Castle ignored her as he headed towards the door. "I should be back in a few days. You're ok with watching Alexis, right?"

"Please," Martha said with a flippant hand wave. "She watches herself."

Castle nodded, knowing this to be true.

"Uh Richard…" Martha wrung her hands as her voice drifted off.

Castle turned back, impatient. "Mother, I'm going to miss my flight."

"Well, I, ah…oh, never mind. Just text me when you land, alright? And tell Kate I hope she's feeling better soon."

He nodded to her and then hurried out the door.


	12. Chapter 12

**Twelve**

Kate opened her eyes slowly. God, what was weighing them down? Anvils? She blinked rapidly at the ceiling above her in an attempt to adjust her eyes to the stark light. Where was she? What was going on?

Oh, she thought as the antiseptic smell hit her nostrils. She was in a hospital. That's right; she just had surgery.

Vaguely, she recalled waking up before in the recovery area, but the visions were blurred, like remembering a dream. She remembered a petite blonde nurse telling her she was fine and that her surgery was a success, but that was about all she could recollect.

As she continued to blink, things came into focus. Ceiling tiles. A curtain around her bed. The beep of a heart monitor. A man sitting in a chair beside her bed swiping his finger across an electronic screen.

"C-Castle?" she stammered, her voice full of gravel.

His head whipped towards her and a smile spread across his face. "Good news," he told her. "You're really working the hospital gown. Seriously—you could start a fashion trend."

"Wh-what," she pressed her hands down on the bed and attempted to push herself upright. Doing so caused an immediate pain in her gut and she winced.

"Whoa," he said, standing and placing two hands on her shoulders. "Don't move too much Kate. I think you're supposed to lie still for a little longer."

"What," she repeated, gritting her teeth a bit due to the pain, "are you doing here?"

"You said you were getting your appendix out," he said as though that simple sentence would explain everything.

She blinked at him. "That wasn't an invitation for a visit." He shrugged and sat back down. He turned off the tablet and set it on the bedside table.

Kate relaxed back against her pillow and attempted to process his presence in her room. In a hospital. In Illinois. Her attempt failed as there were still too many unanswered questions. She gazed over at him and took him in now that her vision was beginning to clear. He looked better than he had the last time she saw him. His skin was brighter, his face and middle a bit thinner. Still, that did not explain his appearance at her bedside. "How'd you even get here this quickly?"

"Caught a flight out of Newark at three. And, believe it or not, both my flights out of Newark and O'Hare were on time. When does that ever happen? I should have bought a lottery ticket, too. Anyway, I landed around six thirty, rented a car and drove right here."

She looked at him incredulously. "No you didn't." That wasn't possible; it simply didn't happen. There was no way he did that; no way. She managed to eye a clock on the wall; it was quarter to eight, which meant the timeline of his story fit.

"Paul's still in Canada, right?" Castle asked after a moment of silence from her.

"Yeah but…god," she moaned when she tried to sit up again. "Why do I feel this awful? Is this how awful I'm supposed to feel?"

He nodded grimly. "Mm I'm afraid so. You just had an organ removed, Kate."

"Yeah but it was a stupid organ."

He chuckled. "True. I'll go get one of the nurses and tell them you're awake." He stood from his chair, took a step away and then turned back. Lowering his face closer to hers, he said in a tone just above a whisper, "By the way, I told them I was your brother so they'd let me see you so…you should probably go with that."

She watched him go and then rolled her head back so she could stare at the ceiling. Of course he was posing as the brother she didn't have. How else could this scenario get any more ridiculous?

Five minutes later, Castle returned with both a nurse and a doctor. While the nurse reviewed her vitals, the doctors spoke with her about her surgery. "Everything was a success, Ms. Beckett. We removed your appendix before the infection spread so you should be feeling better in a matter of days. And, since your bother here has so nicely agreed to take care of you while you recover, you can probably go home tomorrow, assuming nothing with your condition changes overnight."

The doctor nodded at Castle, who beamed as though he had just won a Pulitzer.

"The nurse will be back in a few hours to get you up and walking," the doctor added before the two of them left the room.

"Great news right?" Castle said. "You're gonna make it!"

"Yippee," she said with an air of sarcasm. Then, glancing around the room while trying not to move too much she asked, "Do you know where my purse is?"

"Ah, yes," he said before pulling the item in question out of the bedside table drawer.

He sat down while she pulled her phone from the inside of the purse and turned the device back on. Once it had restarted, she scrolled through her missing messages. "Any from Paul?" Castle asked in a tone he clearly meant to sound casual but in reality sounded anything but.

"Yes, actually," Kate said. "I'm letting him know that I'm out of surgery and that I'm fine."

"Was he…concerned at all?" Castle asked, casually leaning against the end of her bed.

Kate shot him a perturbed expression. "Of course he was concerned, but he still has speeches to give tomorrow and Saturday morning; it's not like he can come home. I told him I was fine."

Castle decided against making another comment on the subject. Instead, he wandered around her side of the room. "So where the rest of your stuff?"

"What stuff?"

"Your stuff—toothbrush? Change of clothes? Bunny slippers?"

She shrugged. "I don't have any stuff."

"Why not?"

"Because they told me I needed emergency surgery. I asked if I could go home first, but they said no; they didn't want to risk my appendix rupturing. I didn't think it was wise to argue with the word rupture," she said pointedly.

Castle nodded. "I agree. Want me to go get your stuff?"

Kate dropped her arms to the side and looked at him very seriously. "Castle. No. You don't need to be here. You can't be here." In fact, the fact that he was presently there was entirely ridiculous in her opinion. In order for him to have arrived so quickly, he must have hopped on a plane practically right after she told him she might need her appendix out. That concept made his existence at her side even more insane—for all he knew she could have been sent home!

"Why not?" he asked, approaching the bed with a grin. "There's no place I'd rather be."

Kate stared at him eyes wide for a moment before he quickly backpedaled. "I mean, you know—you need help, right? You have to rest for a few days at least I'd imagine."

She shook her head and turned back to her purse, searching for a lip balm. "I'm fine."

"Right," he said in a tone indicating nonbelief. "When does Paul come home?"

"Sunday."

His jaw dropped. "Kate, that's three days! What were you going to do? Did you have a plan?"

She avoided his gaze. "Not exactly."

"Kate," he said, that tone his voice warning.

She looked up at him. "What? It's not like emergency surgery would wait for me to have a plan."

He nodded his head from side to side. "Fair point. Just…just tell me how to get to your place. I'll go get your stuff and-"

"No!"

He glared at her. "Stop being stubborn!"

"I'm not!" She insisted.

"Oh, I see. So you're going to be miserable and not have the things you need because you won't let me help you. Seems like a good idea."

Looking away from him in a child-like protest, Kate chewed on her bottom lip. So she didn't have a plan—so what? It wasn't like she needed a change of clothes or bunny slippers as he so foolishly suggested. She could absolutely return home in the clothes she'd worn the previous day; there was nothing wrong with that. Granted, she did not exactly have a plan for actually getting home, but she had time to figure that out.

"Kate." Castle spoke gently, stepping right up to the edge of her bed. She turned her eyes towards him tentatively. "Please let me help you. I don't mind, really. I'll go to your house and get whatever you want and bring it back."

"That's not necessary."

"Kate."

"No, I'm not being stubborn this time—just practical," she explained. "It's not like I need a change of clothes tonight; you can bring them back tomorrow. I mean…assuming you want to come back tomorrow."

He ginned at her. "What else am I going to do in Illinois?"

His response elicited a small smile from her, which he took as a win. "I seriously will come back, though. We can hang out, play card games; it'll be great. Then tomorrow I'll take you home and we can eat Jell-O together."

She gave him an impatient look. "Castle I cannot let you take care of me."

He laughed gently. "But I'm volunteering." She eyed him suspiciously. "Seriously – I'm good at this. You can call my daughter if you need a reference."

As she rolled her eyes, she tried to shift herself in bed, but felt an immediate pain in her stomach. Her hand shot to the area and she could feel the bandages on her abdomen through the sheet. Biting her lip she looked up at him. "I guess I don't have much of a choice, do I?"

He smiled the smile of true success. "Not summuch, no."

Begrudgingly, she pulled a house key out of her bag and passed it over to him. Then, she waited as he pulled up the notes section on his iPad so he could write down his instructions so nothing was forgotten.

Kate gave Castle the address of her and Paul's duplex. She gave him vague directions on how to get there from the hospital, but he insisted he'd use his phone's GPS for navigation. She used a drawing ap on his tablet to create a crude blueprint of her home so he wouldn't be walking in completely blind. Then, using as much detail as she could with her drug haze, she explained the layout of her closet and where he could find her sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt.

"Bra?" he asked as he tapped notes for himself.

"I'll wear the same one I had on."

"Panties?"

"God Castle—I do not need you rifling through my underwear drawer!" she moaned and covered her face at the mental image.

"Okay, what if I promise not to post the pictures I take online?" he responded with an alarming amount of sincerity.

She whipped her hand in his direction, holding it with the palm up. "Give me my key back."

He laughed. "Kate c'mon. I am an adult—give me a little more credit than that."

She grumbled at him. "Fine, but get a pair of regular bikinis—no thongs."

He bobbed his head. "I figured as much."

Second guessing her prior statement she added, "Don't even touch the thongs."

He looked at her with pursed lips. "Okay, fine but you're really sucking the fun out of this."

Again, she covered her face with her hands. "This was a terrible idea."

"Oh my god Kate, lighten up," he said, reaching over and putting his hand across her wrist. "You just had surgery; I'm trying to make you smile."

She looked at him glumly. "It's not working."

"So I'll cross moonlighting as a court jester off my list of potential career choices," he said factually before turning back to his tablet. "Anything else I'm missing?"

"I don't think so."

He shut off the tablet and put it back in its case before standing and gazing down at her cautiously. "Are you sure you don't want me to stay longer?"

She shook her head. "I'll be fine. Oh—I almost forgot. There's an air mattress in the spare bedroom closet. You can set it up in there; there should be enough room."

"Ah, no thanks; I'll take the couch." He rocked back on his heels and grimaced slightly. "I've had a traumatic experience with an air mattress."

She blinked at him. "How is that even possible?"

"Well, see…" He leaned one hand against the chair back. "As it turns out you shouldn't really have sex on those…"

Kate shut her eyes immediately before moving her head back and forth at a slow pace. "Oh, Castle…"

"What?" His voice went up an octave as he defended himself. "I was in college—what did I know?"

She opened her eyes and looked at him, biting her lip to suppress a laugh. "So what? It popped?"

"Uh, popped? More like exploded…around so very sensitive areas," he added with a cringe.

Kate laughed and then gripped her belly with a wince. She breathed out two quick breaths though her lips while the pain dissipated before she looked up at him and asked carefully. "Were either of you injured?"

"Nothing severe."

"Uh huh…well, the couch is a pullout. Sheets are in the closet at the top of the stairs."

"Thanks." He stood at the edge of her bed for a moment, unmoving. "You're sure you don't want me to-"

"Castle."

"Fine," he relented. "I'll see you tomorrow morning. I hope you sleep well." He gave her one last smile before turning towards the door. He barely made it four steps before she stopped him.

"Castle?"

He turned to face her. "Yeah?"

"Thank you," she said with genuine nod.

He nodded back. "Goodnight, Kate."


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N: I just want to take a moment to thank everyone who has "followed" this story - It now has more followers than any other fic I've published, so thank you! I'm so glad that everyone is enjoying it! :)_

* * *

**Thirteen**

Castle awoke early Friday morning and immediately set to work. He showered, dressed, and used his phone to find the closest grocery store. He'd perused Kate's refrigerator and pantry the night before, but felt there was not enough suitable food for her, especially since leftover Chinese of a questionable age would more than likely not be on her post-surgery recommended diet.

He received more than a few double looks as he pushed his shopping cart through the aisles of the suburban grocery store. The entire experience left him feeling as though he'd landed on the moon. This was not at all like shopping in Manhattan. Shopping out in the Hamptons was closer to this, but still not the same. For starters, the parking lot contained far more mini-vans than Jaguars, and the differences only grew from there.

After standing in line with dozens of mothers hauling around whining children, Castle returned to the duplex, put away his haul, and then set to work packing up Kate's belongings. He looked for a small duffle bag, but did not find one on his brief scan of the closets. Rather than haul in a full sized rolling piece of luggage or continue searching through everything she owned, he improvised with one of the clear plastic grocery bags from earlier that morning.

Referring to his iPad instructions, he retrieved her sweats, shirt, and undergarments. She would have been proud of him, he thought as he bagged the items. The first thing he pulled out of her underwear drawer was a pair of blue striped bikinis and thus no other gawking was necessary.

After double checking to make sure he had everything he needed, he headed back to the hospital, enjoying the drive through the quaint neighborhoods now that it was daylight and he could take them all in. Suburbia wasn't so bad, after all, but that didn't mean he'd be making the move any time soon.

Castle found Kate sitting up in her hospital bed taking in a few spoonful's of what appeared to be red Jell-O. "Hey," he greeted her. "How are you feeling?"

She looked at him and her expression lightened. "Surprisingly not bad."

"Excellent." He dropped the grocery bag on the end of her bed and said, "Change of clothes, as promised."

"Thanks Castle. Did you have trouble finding anything?"

He shook his head. "No, your instructions were excellent. I even found a grocery store and got plenty of rice, bananas and applesauce. Oh, and Jell-O."

She set down her plastic spoon and looked at him as though he told her he'd just discovered time travel.

"What?"

"Nothing," she said quickly, her voice a bit squeaky. "Just you…shopping."

He shrugged as though her suggestion was pure lunacy. "I am a person."

"But…you got rice. And bananas." Her tone indicated that she was impressed and it caused him to click his tongue with mild annoyance.

"Hey, I have a child, remember? I'm quite familiar with the recovering-from-being-sick diet."

"Yes, but I don't even think my father could successfully shop like that."

Castle nodded, seeing where her confusion came from. He took a seat in the chair beside her bed and said, "But I imagine your mother took care of you when you were sick. I've always been Alexis's primary care giver. Meredith left us when she was five—not that she was really present before then. After that it was just us. Mother was around of course—in and out—but she didn't live with us for most of that time."

Kate felt her shoulder's drop slightly as the guilt of prejudging him as a lesser-involved father sunk in. "I'm sorry to hear that."

He shook her off. "Don't be. Meredith is Alexis's mother and I'd never prevent her from being in Alexis's life, but…quite frankly I think we were better off without her."

Kate's eyebrows rose with curiosity. "She's not very maternal?"

He chuckled and leaned forward, resting his forearms across his thighs. "Well, let's put it this way—you know how you'd treat a puppy different than a human baby?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Well she didn't," he said pointedly. Then, leaning back in his chair, he continued to explain. "To her, Alexis was an accessory or a play thing. When it got down to the nitty gritty—you know that whole sacrificing things you want for the good of your child thing…yeah, Meredith wasn't really into that. Because there is only one most important person in Meredith's life and that person is Meredith."

Kate studied the man across from her, seeing him—perhaps for the first time—as more than just a celebrity writer with a charmed life. As it seemed, the allure of his perfect existence was simply that; a fallacy. "That must have been very hard for Alexis," she concluded.

Castle skimmed his fingers across his chin. "Ah well…Meredith put on a pretty good show for her—for the most part. It was hard on her when she left. Then when she came to visit and would leave again the cycle would start over, but honestly? The worst part was a few years ago when Alexis actually came to the realization that her mother would never change and never be the kind of mother that her friends had."

He went quite for a moment, staring off into the vacant space by her bedside. When he turned back to her, she could see a sadness reflecting in his usual joyful eyes. "To see that kind of realization in your twelve-year-old…well-"

"Ah, Ms. Beckett." A doctor entering her room interrupted Castle's thoughts. He craned his head over his shoulder to watch as the man approached. "How are we feeling this morning?"

She bobbed her head. "Good."

"Excellent. Pain level on a scale of one to ten?"

"About a two if I'm not moving. Four or five if I'm moving around."

The doctor nodded. "That's to be expected." He silently reviewed her medical information on his tablet for another minute before looking up at her and smiling. "Well, I think you're about ready to go home. I'll process your discharge information—shouldn't take more than a few hours—and you'll be on your way. With your brother's supervision, of course."

"Of course," Castle chimed in, beaming at Kate. She fought the urge to roll her eyes.

"But," the doctor cautioned, "if your pain worsens, if a fever spikes, or if your incisions start bleeding you need to get yourself back here ASAP!"

"Thank you," Kate said with a nod.

"Yay for going home," Castle cheered once the doctor left. She gave him a patronizing smile. "C'mon Kate—you get to ride in a wheelchair. How great is that?"

Kate's brow wrinkled and she merely shook her head as she looked at him; he was insane, there was no doubt about it.

* * *

Three hours later, Kate had carefully been loaded in the front seat of Castle's rental car and he had driven her home—never traveling above the speed limit, she noticed. He parked his car in her vacant garage and then helped her up the two steps into the kitchen of her duplex. She rested her forearms against the counter and breathed deeply once they made it inside. The stairs had been an unexpected challenge.

He waited patiently until the unpleasant contortions on her face subsided. Then, he asked, "What do you want to do? Do you want to try to get in bed?"

"Yes," she said, though it was with a wary glance towards the flight of stairs in between her and her pillow-top oasis. From her position in the kitchen, those steps may as well have been Everest.

"I'd carry you up the stairs, but I think it might hurt you more," Castle said, considering how much being carried would crush her abdomen.

She gazed at him under her brow line. "I can't let you carry me."

He shrugged. "I could."

"No," she said, pushing herself away from the counter with a slight grunt. "I can do it."

Castle hovered by her side. "Lean on me if you need to and go slow."

She walked to the steps without assistance, but when she placed her foot on the first one she realized just one hand on the banister was not enough. Somewhat reluctantly, she gripped Castle's hand with the other. He went to put an arm around her waist to help take some of her weight, but she stopped him right before his hand came in contact with one of the three incisions from her surgery.

When she took the second step with a grunt of pain, he gripped her hip, his arm around her behind almost as though it was a seat. She was about to flag his contact as inappropriate when she realized, much to her chagrin, it actually made her trek easier. Biting her lip, she said nothing, and journeyed up four more steps to the landing, where the stairs made a ninety degree turn.

"Maybe this is a bad idea," she said as she rested against the landing's wall.

"Why?"

"Because if I get up these stairs I don't think I'm coming back down." She explained. True, the journey down would theoretically be easier than going up, but if she went down she would have to go up again, and that was not something she was keen to repeat.

"So? There's a bathroom up there right?"

"Yeah, but the kitchen's down here."

He shrugged, indicating no problem at all. "I can get you anything you need."

She gave him a look. "No you can't."

He chuckled. "Seriously? You're turning down an opportunity to use me as your slave?" When he saw on her face that she was genuinely considering this notion, he smiled wider. "Ah, see this will work perfectly."

When they made it to the top of the stairs, Kate told him she wanted to use the bathroom before lying down. He offered to help her and she threatened his life if he stepped inside the bathroom while she was in there. Instead, he waited patiently outside the door and helped guide her to the master bedroom. She sat down on the edge of the bed and Castle dropped to the floor to untie and remove her shoes.

Once she was under the sheet she moaned with annoyance. "I wish you didn't have to see me like this."

He let out a breathy laugh as a clear sign he thought her statement was crazy. "Like this? Please. This is nothing." He sat down at the edge of the bed by her feet and continued. "When Alexis was eleven she had the worst stomach flu in the history of time. I'm serious. It was positively awful. I felt so bad for her. For two days she could hardly take one sip of Gatorade before digestive pyrotechnics ensued. After that basically nothing short of a compound fracture fazes me. Those, FYI, make me faint," he added.

She smiled. "How manly of you."

He pointed a very serious finger at her. "Okay, you know what – you watch a skateboarder take a horrible fall, get up, and have his tibia showing through his leg; then we'll talk."

Kate grimaced before saying, "I didn't realize you were a skateboarder."

"I'm not; I was watching for research," he explained before standing off the bed. "I'm going to get the rest of your stuff out of the car. Can I bring you anything when I come back up?"

She looked around the room, considering his offer for a moment. "Some water would be nice."

He smiled. "Coming right up."

Castle jogged down the stairs and out in to the garage where he retrieved Kate's bag of spare clothes and the prescriptions they'd picked up at a drive-through pharmacy on the way home. He set them all out on the kitchen counter and reviewed them quickly, making sure none of them had to be taken sooner than dinner; they didn't.

Once he'd grabbed a bottle of water for her, he returned to her bedroom. He had barely crossed the threshold of the doorway when his gut clenched on sight of her. She was on her side facing away from him, her body curled around a pillow, her shoulders shaking. As he heard her sniff back some tears, he rushed over to her, nearly tripping over the bedpost at the foot of the bed as he went.

"Hey, Kate—hey," he said gently. He set the water bottle on the bedside table and crouched down so he was eye-level with her. "What is it? What's wrong? Are you in pain?"

"No," she sniffed. "I'm fine." She rolled onto her back and pushed herself up into a half sitting up position. When she saw he was eyeing her suspiciously she relented. "I mean, I'm not in pain, but I'm not fine. I just… I guess it's all kind of hitting me. I've never had surgery before—not even my tonsils out and I just…" Her bottom lip trembled and a fresh onslaught of tears spilled from her eyes.

"Hey it's okay," he told her. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her face into his chest. She grabbed a handful of his shirt and gripped tightly. He rubbed her back in smooth circles and gently told her she was fine for several minutes until her tears ceased.

Dropping a kiss onto the top of her head, he pulled back and handed her a tissue. As she blotted her cheeks, he suggested, "Why don't you just take a little nap? You must be tired after all those stairs."

She let out a sad little laugh. "You make it sound as though I've scaled one of the ruins at Chichen Itza."

He laughed too then nodded gently. "Just relax Kate—sleep. I'll be here if you need me."


	14. Chapter 14

**Fourteen**

When Kate awoke she blinked groggily for a moment before stretching out her lower limbs without thinking. After feeling a pull on her incision she winced and involuntarily made a groan.

"Are you okay?"

His voice startled her. She whipped her head in the direction of the bedroom door and found Castle seated on what appeared to be one of her dining room chairs in the middle of the room, a book open on his lap. "What are you doing?"

"Reading."

"Why are you doing it here?"

"Well," he said, shutting the book and standing. "I wasn't sure I would hear you if you called for me and I was downstairs."

Kate rolled her eyes and pushed herself into a seated position with her back against the headboard. "Castle I'm fine; I'm not dying."

"But what if something happened and I wasn't here? Then Paul would be really mad at me. He'd probably try and beat me up when he got home and I wouldn't want him hurting himself…"

"Castle," she said warningly.

He smirked. "Sorry. How are you feeling?"

She nodded. "Pretty good; the nap helped."

"Are you feeling hungry?"

"I am, actually. What time is it?"

"Almost five. What do you think you want to eat?" Castle asked her. "I have rice and a chicken breast. I also got some organic low sodium broth if you'd rather I make that into a soup."

She eyed him strangely. "Or you could open a can of soup."

He gasped and clutched his chest as though he'd been shot with an arrow. "A can of soup!? A can of soup?!"

She held her hands up defensively. "Sorry I suggested it, but, honestly, Castle I don't mind. I eat cans of soup all the time. I don't want you to go to any trouble."

He beamed at her. "No trouble at all."

Shortly after six that evening, Castle returned to the bedroom with a tray of spoons, forks and medication. On his second trip up, he returned with a bowl for her and a plate for himself. He passed out her meds before divvying up their meals and announcing, "Bon appetite!"

Kate smiled at him as she picked up her spoon. "Thanks Castle; this looks really good."

"Well, try not to judge my cooking too harshly. It's really bland, but that's kind of the point."

Kate sampled the soup gingerly at first, but once she realized how good it felt to chew and swallow she began taking medium to large sized bites of his chicken rice soup concoction. It was bland as he'd said, but considering it was the first substantial thing she'd had to eat since the day before her surgery she was ravenous and would have eaten just about anything.

"Uh, Kate, you might want to slow down a bit there," he said cautiously, noticing she was beginning to shovel the soup instead of eat it.

Her eyes flicked towards him with a note of embarrassment. "Sorry," she mumbled. "It's really good."

He chuckled with a smile. "Glad you like it. Someday I'll make you my winter vegetable stew—you'll love that. And my chili, but it's a little on the spicy side."

"I can do spicy… you know, when my digestive system is functioning properly," she added. He nodded, picked up the plate he'd made for himself and began to eat. "What are you having?"

"The same thing…ish. Chicken and rice only mine has salsa under it," he explained.

"Would that be salsa from a can?" she asked with a pointed stare.

He smiled. "You caught me. I do eat some things from cans or jars, but only if I have to…or if I'm feeling particularly lazy. I like to make it myself if I can and have time."

"I didn't realize you were such a cook."

Castle nodded. "Yeah, I really enjoy it actually. It started because I enjoyed not having food poisoning from my mother's cooking."

"Castle!" She laughed.

"Seriously. The woman is a nightmare in the kitchen. But I really do like it. I find it relaxing. Plus, I often think through plotlines and character conversations in my head as I do it."

"Ah, multitasking."

"You have to multitask as a writer," he explained. "Sometimes the greatest ideas come while you're doing something else—but it has to be a fairly monotonous task that doesn't occupy too much thinking power otherwise it doesn't work."

As they finished up their meals, Kate asked Castle how he began writing and he told her what he explained to be the short-and-sweet version of the tale. He, like many other teenage boys, did not have a clear idea as to what career path he might take. He needed to write papers for school assignments, obviously, but something inside him sparked a challenge. He wanted each paper to be better than the last—the next paper better than the one before and so on. So he wrote and wrote and kept writing as he entered college.

College was the first time he thought seriously about publishing. After several works were rejected, his inaugural novel, _In a Hail of Bullets,_ was published by Black Pawn, and he'd been with them ever since. He admitted to Kate that his sudden success was baffling to him, but, as it led the way for him becoming the person he was, he was eternally grateful for it.

After cleaning up their dinner and putting away some leftovers, Castle returned to Kate's bedside and said, "So what's next?"

"Actually, I think I'm going to take a quick shower." Castle gave her a cautious look. "What?" she responded. "You heard the discharge nurse; she said I could shower Friday evening."

"If you felt up to it," he reminded her.

"Which I do. And if you even suggest helping me with this, I will punch you," she added as a warning. He held his hands up defensively and left the room while she gathered clothing to change into after her shower.

When she passed by him in the hall he said, "If you need help, just yell." Kate ignored him. She was a grown woman; of course she could shower by herself. Besides, even if she couldn't she would not even consider the idea of Castle helping her.

Once she was safely in the sanctity of the bathroom, Kate stared at her reflection in the mirror. God, she looked awful. Thankfully, a shower would greatly improve her condition.

She undressed at a slow pace which, unfortunately, not quite thirty-six hours after her surgery was about as fast as she could go. Standing nude in front of her bathroom mirror she examined her surgery incisions: three cuts approximately an inch and a half long around the right side of her abdomen. They didn't look bad at all. Honestly, they looked a lot better than she expected them to since at that point they just looked like day old (albeit very large) paper cuts.

Stepping under the shower spray Kate felt immediate relief. Washing her hair felt like a rare luxury only experienced by royals. She even considered doing it twice, but then thought better of it; she did not want to test the limits of her standing ability, particularly not in a slippery shower.

Once she emerged and toweled off gingerly she began to change into her fresh clothes only to realized the pair of pants she chose would not due. She picked a pair of her yoga pants, which she thought would be fine, except the waist band went directly over one of her incisions causing a bit more discomfort than she would have preferred.

Yoga pants in hand, she crossed the hallway back into her bedroom and jumped when she found Castle seated on a chair reading. "God Castle! Ah! Don't look at me!" she insisted when he looked up to her. The last thing she needed was him seeing her in just a shirt and panties. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to stay close just in case you needed me—oh my god is that a tattoo!" he proclaimed after seeing a bit of darkened flesh around her right hip.

"Castle, close your eyes!" she insisted, covering the tattooed area with the palm of her hand. Her post-surgery state did not allow her to move quickly enough to escape his curious gaze.

"Aww c'mon, Kate," he whined, though he did shut his eyes. "At least let me see it now that I know it's there."

"No," she said firmly. She pulled a pair of sweatpants with a looser waistband from the bureau drawer and put them on before giving him the all clear. Castle opened his eyes, stuck out his bottom lip and gave her a pleading expression. She groaned. What was the point? "Oh god fine."

He jumped out of his seat with glee and walked over to her. She turned her right side towards him and pulled down the waistband of her pants to reveal the small tattoo located right at her hip bone. "What's it stand for?" he asked, noting the foreign characters.

"It's Japanese for beautiful; I got it on my eighteenth birthday," she explained before pulling her pants back in place.

He looked back up at her, studying her face. "This was around the same time you had your motorcycle?"

She nodded with a soft smile. "During my rebel days, yes."

Bemused he told her, "It's so hard to see you as a rebel."

She laughed. In hindsight she felt the same. "Yeah, I know. It wasn't really me—I was just testing boundaries."

"So do you regret the tattoo?" he asked. She shook her head and shrugged. "So you wouldn't get it removed?"

"Oh, I don't know. If it was a sticker I could just pull off I guess I would, but what's the point? The only time you can see it is if I wear a bikini, which is pretty rare. It's not like its bothering me or anyone else," she said simply.

Castle nodded, though he could not help but wonder what the illustrious Paul's opinion on the tattoo would be. Personally, he found it sexy. Especially since, as she put it, it was almost always hidden.

"How about you?" she asked as she walked over to sit on the bed. "Tattoos?"

He shook his head. "Never saw the appeal."

"So…do you want to watch a movie? I mean," she backtracked while averting her eyes to the ground. "If you'd rather keep reading your book…"

"No, I'll watch a movie with you." He smiled at her. "Just out of curiosity, what are Kate Beckett's favorite movies? Please, please don't say artsy French films with subtitles where people just stare at each other and nothing makes sense."

She laughed. "No. I…" She turned her eyes towards her lap and then back up at him, biting her lip as if she was about to confess a scandalous secret. "I have a hidden movie collection."

"Hidden from Paul?" he asked; she nodded. "And I'm assuming it isn't porn."

"Castle!"

"What? That's a serious question!"

"It's not porn. You might not be interested but…well, they're in a plastic bin under my side of the bed. Would you mind?" she asked, knowing it would be too heavy for her to lift post-surgery.

"Not at all." He crouched down by her side of the bed and found the container in question tucked up towards the headboard. He slid it out and popped off the top. Immediately, his face lit up like a child's on Christmas morning. "Horror movies?"

"Cheesy horror movies," she corrected. Then she laughed with slight embarrassment. "I don't know why, but I really like them."

"I love these!" he proclaimed. "I would write them if writing movie scripts wasn't so freakin' awful."

"Well, pick whichever one you want and we'll watch."

With a happy little laugh Castle leafed through the box of DVDs until he found one he hadn't seen. Then, he popped it in the DVD player in the TV across from the bed and repositioned his chair so that it faced the screen instead of the middle of the room. He passed Kate the remote control before sitting down and attempting to settle in, which was a bit difficult on the wooden-backed chair.

Noticing his continuous shifting, Kate suggested, "Why don't you sit on the bed?"

He looked over to her. "Really?" She nodded and patted the mattress beside her. Castle moved the chair aside and climbed up on the bed, leaning back against the pillows across the headboard. There, they settled in side-by-side as the movie began.

* * *

Shortly before eleven, Kate awoke in an uncomfortable position. Her neck was crammed against something large and unmovable; something much more solid than a pillow. She opened her eyes and noticed the television coming into view. It was still on, though the screen was black. She held the remote loosely in her hand so she turned it off.

Pushing herself into a more upright position she realized the thing beside her was not a thing at all; it was a person. Castle had also fallen asleep during or after the movie and she had been using the crook of his elbow as a pillow.

Carefully, so she did not wake him, she slid out of bed and padded softly across the hall to the bathroom. When she returned, she found his chin remained slumped against his chest. She thought she could return to the bed without waking him, but she was unsuccessful.

"Whasit—what time is it?" he mumbled out.

"Almost eleven; we fell asleep during the movie," she informed him softly.

"Oh 'm sorry," he said through a yawn.

She smiled over at him. "Don't worry about it."

He nodded and slid towards the edge of the bed. "I guess I should go and let you sleep."

"'night Castle," she told him as he walked away. He echoed her sentiments and she relaxed back against her pillow. She lay there for a moment before shivering slightly. She pulled the blankets more tightly around her before scooting herself over into the space Castle left vacant; the space that still contained remnants of his warmth.


	15. Chapter 15

**Fifteen**

Saturday morning when Kate awoke she was feeling much better than the day before. Though she was still trying to remain cautiously optimistic, she took that as a sign that she might be healing quicker than expected, or at least be healing on target with what the doctor's told her to expect.

She pulled on a robe and walked to the top of the stairs. She put one hand on the banister and lifted up one foot, but then stopped. She felt good, but perhaps descending the stairs for the first time alone was not the smartest plan. "Castle?"

She heard footsteps downstairs and a moment later his head appeared; he looked concerned. "Are you alright? Do you need anything?"

"Yeah, actually, I was going to come downstairs, but-"

"No problem." He jogged up to meet her, standing on the step just below her position. "Do you want me beside you or in front of you to lean on?"

She thought about this for a moment. "In front of," she concluded. With one hand on the banister and the other hand on his shoulder she descended the first half of the stairs. Feeling confident, she only used the hand on the banister on the second half of the decent. Judging by the expression on his face, this caviler attempt made Castle nervous, but she brushed off his concerns. "I'm fine, Castle; really."

"So…breakfast?"

She nodded. "I think I could have some eggs. Maybe a piece of toast."

He cringed. "I didn't get any bread."

"I have frozen bagels in the freezer; I'll take half of one, please." She requested. He nodded.

She sat at the dining room table, which gave her a clear view of the kitchen. She watched as he pulled a water bottle from the fridge and walked over to her medications sitting on the counter. He brought her the three pills she was required to take that morning and then returned to the kitchen to prepare their meal.

"By the way," he called out to her. "I went and picked up your car this morning."

Her jaw dropped slightly in disbelief. "No you didn't."

He gazed at her over his shoulder. "Of course I did."

"B-but," she stammered. "How?"

"Got the keys out of your purse. Took a cab. Made the cabbie drive through every level of the hospital parking garage while I pressed the panic button on your key FOB and listened for honking noises."

"WHAT?!"

He walked over and leaned against the kitchen doorframe, laughing. "Relax Kate. I heard you tell the nurse you parked on the third level of the parking garage; I only had to make the cab driver drive around that one."

Kate relaxed back in her seat. That story was significantly better, but still not great. Why, she wondered, had he bothered to do that? True, she didn't have a plan for picking up her car, but she figured Paul could take care of that when he came home as she was not allowed to drive until after her one week post-op checkup. "I—uh, well, thank-thank you," she stammered out. "That really wasn't necessary."

He shrugged and walked back to the stove. "No problem."

Thoughts of Paul led Kate to realize that she had not checked her cell phone since the prior afternoon when they arrived home. She pulled it out of her purse on the kitchen counter and examined the screen.

Castle looked over and noticed what she was doing. "Ah, sorry—guess I should have taken that up to you; I didn't think about it."

"No, 's okay," she said distantly.

"How many missed messages do you have from Paul?"

She looked up at him. "None, actually."

Castle nearly dropped the spatula he held. "None!? Have you even spoken to him after your surgery?"

"Of course," she said in an isn't-it-obvious tone. "I talked to him yesterday morning and then texted him when we left the hospital…but I'm sure he's been really busy with his conference. I'm going to try and call him now."

Castle nodded and watched as she walked away. So the boyfriend had not made any attempt to contact her even though he knew she was recovering from surgery. That certainly didn't win him any points in Castle's eyes. In fact, it took some away and, given that he began with so few, it meant he was dangerously looming on the brink of negative numbers.

Not wanting to be too nosy, he turned back to the stove where he made eggs in one skillet and bacon for himself in another. He tried not to think about Kate in the other room, but that was impossible. She was clearly an intelligent woman—a very intelligent woman—but for the life of him he could not understand why she couldn't see Paul for the inconsiderate person he was.

By the time he plated both meals Kate had returned to the table. "Did you get a hold of him?" he asked conversationally.

She shook her head. "No, he must already be in his meetings this morning; I left a message."

Castle said nothing at he joined her at the table.

They ate in silence for a few minutes before Kate groaned and looked at his plate longingly. "That bacon smells so good."

"You're welcome to have a piece but-"

"No I can't," she sighed mournfully. "They seemed pretty serious about staying away from fatty, greasy foods for a few weeks."

"Well then you can plan a nice bacon-filled meal for next month. Oh!" he gasped. "Wrap your Thanksgiving turkey in bacon!"

She laughed. "We'll see."

After Castle cleaned up their breakfast, he asked if she was interested in playing cards or a two-person game on his iPad for entertainment. She chose cards, saying it would be fun to do something "low tech."

"Aright," Castle agreed, "but I think it's only fair to warn you that I'm extremely good at poker."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "Is that so?"

He nodded. "I've won more than my fair share of games at Famous Writer Poker Night."

Kate laughed. "That isn't really a thing, is it?"

"Of course it is—once a month; we alternate apartments. Though, in fairness, I don't think Patterson likes when I call it that, but I think it's funny."

Kate blinked. "Patterson as in James Patterson?"

"Is there any other?"

Intrigued, she leaned forward. "Who else attends these games?"

"Cannell, Connelly, Lehane are the regulars, but a few others filter in and out."

Kate raised her brows in surprise as Castle dealt the first hand. "And did I see that's one of Patterson's books you're reading right now?"

He nodded. "Yeah, his latest. We typically read each other's work and use it as fodder for some good natured ribbing."

"Sounds like fun."

"It is. Now," he smiled with an air of malevolence, "let's get serious about this game."

* * *

Much to Castle's utter horror, Kate trounced him during their first two rounds of play. Admittedly, he was being a bit cocky, but he had no idea she had an unmatchable poker face. Once he knuckled down, he won the next two hands leaving the fifth hand to decide the ultimate winner. He was victorious, but he had a sinking suspicion she let him win.

For lunch that day Kate gave Castle directions to her favorite sandwich shop in town. The bread, she said, was not quite as good as that found in Manhattan, but it was pretty damn close. Castle agreed to this as he enjoyed his sandwich.

Unfortunately, Kate's attempt to eat a regular sandwich at lunch did not sit well with her gut, and she ended up taking a long nap in the afternoon in hopes of waking and feeling better. Her plan worked, and she was able to enjoy a rice and chicken dinner with Castle before they watched another movie from her horror collection.

Sunday morning while Kate showered, Castle stripped the sofa bed of its sheets and carried them down to the basement laundry. He offered to wash them for her, but she refused, saying he'd done more than enough. After putting the sofa back together, he took his turn in the shower before beginning to organize his belongings as he would be leaving later that morning.

The prior afternoon Kate was finally able to get a hold of her boyfriend, who informed her that he would still be coming home Sunday afternoon as planned. Once this was confirmed, Castle booked a return flight to New York for lunchtime. She informed him he could leave earlier if he wanted, but he refused, not wanting her to be alone for more than a few hours just in case.

When he was through showering, Castle went into the kitchen and began wiping up some of the counters. He cleaned as he cooked, of course, but he wanted to be extra sure not to leave any messes. Not only did he feel it was a guests' duty to leave a place they stayed in the same—if not better—condition they found it, with her out of commission from her surgery he especially wanted to be sure the area was spotless.

As he was searching for some cleaning solution to remove some bacon grease splatter from the stovetop, he came across an expensive espresso maker in an under-counter cabinet. Crouching on the floor, he stared at it for a moment curiously. The object looked familiar—very familiar, in fact. He pondered for a moment before it hit him—he'd bought one of those! Not for himself, but for the offices at Black Pawn. One time while at their offices he'd been in desperate need of a caffeine jolt and found their coffee quality to be subpar at best, so he'd donated the item to them. It may not have been the exact same model, but it was similar and probably similarly expensive.

"Whatcha doin'?"

Castle whipped his head around to see Kate standing in the doorway of the kitchen, her arms folded over her chest as she eyed him curiously. "Oh, sorry. I was looking for some cleaner to clean the stove."

She relaxed her shoulders and turned her head to the side. "Castle, you do not have to clean the stove."

"But there's grease on it from my bacon…"

"It's fine; you've done more than enough."

"You're sure?" he asked. She nodded. He stood from the floor and shut the cabinet door. Gesturing towards it he said, "That's quite an espresso maker you have there."

"Oh. Yeah." Kate rolled her eyes. "Paul's super into coffee. And wines and expensive cheeses…" Her voice drifted off for a moment but then she cleared her throat. "Anyway, he wanted to treat himself when he got this new tenure-track position, so he got that."

"Expensive treat," Castle concluded, immediately wondering how many other expensive treats Paul purchased. He couldn't judge too harshly as he had dozens of gizmos of his own. The difference being his income was grand enough that he could waste a few hundred dollars on whatever he wanted. He had a suspected that Paul did not exactly fall into that same category.

Kate lowered her eyes to the ground and nodded. "Yeah."

"So, what did he get you?" he asked. Kate refused to meet his eye.

Castle took a deep breath and leaned back against the counter. Was this really the right time? Given that he had to leave for his plane in less than an hour it seemed like it was then or never. He'd avoided the conversation while Kate wasn't feeling well, but she seemed to be on the steady path to recovery, so now was as good a time as any.

He pushed himself off the counter and closed half the distance between them. "Okay. Here's the deal. Do you remember the first day we met? How you didn't want to lie to me about being a professional writing consultant?"

She nodded her head, but her expression made it clear she had no idea where he was going with that topic of conversation.

"You said you wanted all the cards on the table, so here are mine: you shouldn't be with him. I know you said you have history, but Kate how long are you going to use that excuse? You say you're committed and obviously you are because you moved here with him. That kind of commitment implies that you would be married. Or, at the very least, engaged assuming that Paul actually believed in marriage. That isn't the level of commitment to take lightly. Believe me, I know."

Kate closed her eyes and shook her head, her mouth already beginning to feel dry. "Castle I'm really not-"

"You deserve to be with someone better," he continued, completely ignoring her attempt to protest. "Someone who treats you like a partner; an equal. Someone who treats you like you're the greatest thing that's ever happened in his life, because, believe me, Kate, you would be. Someone who…" He opened his arms wide, struggling to find the right words. "Who finds out you're sick and flies across the country to be with you."

Her nostrils flared. "I never asked you to do that!"

"That's the whole point!" His voice grew louder as he took two more steps towards her. "You're my friend and you needed emergency surgery and I didn't want you to have to wake up alone. If you were my girlfriend?" He shook his head, staring her straight in the eye. "Nothing but an act of god would have kept me away."

Kate could barely breathe. She simply stood there, her heart slamming in her rib cage. She stared into his azure eyes before lowering her gaze to his lips. In that moment, they seemed more intoxicatingly pink and luxurious than they ever had. Had they always been that way? Or was she just noticing it now? She turned her eyes back up to his, but looking at him hurt. She could almost feel waves of emotion pouring out of them and, in that moment, it was too much, so she looked away.

After Kate averted her gaze, Castle held his steady for another thirty seconds. When she never looked back, he cleared his throat. "I guess I should get ready to go."

He stepped around her and left the kitchen. When he was gone, Kate let out the breath she'd been holding in. She took two steps forward and leaned heavily against the counter, trying to process his words. She couldn't honestly say that they shocked her. Even before she'd left New York he made it clear he wasn't exactly a fan of Paul, but she never expected him to confront her in that way. And, quite frankly, she felt she was on a bit too much pain medication to appropriately address what he said.

Kate kept to the kitchen as Castle double checked that all of his belongings were in his carry-on bag. He also returned the chair he'd taken to her bedroom to its rightful place at the dining room table. Once everything in her home was back to the way he found it, he shouldered his bag and returned to the kitchen.

Kate stepped forward. "I really can't thank you enough for coming here, staying with me. You didn't have to."

"I know."

Silence hung in the air for a moment as Kate wrung her hands together. When she looked up at him, she said with utmost sincerity, "You're a really good friend, Rick."

Castle resisted the urge to wince. There was no clearer way to "friend zone" someone than to come right out and say it, and it appeared that's what Kate was doing. He turned towards the door, but then stopped and looked back at her. "Oh hey I almost forgot – before you got up this morning I emailed you a copy of _Code Cracker_."

Kate's expression brightened. "The finished version?"

He nodded. "Promise me one thing, though? That you won't post it on the internet."

"I would never."

With a cringe he added, "And don't tell Gina—she'd kill me."

"No problem."

He eyed her carefully for a moment before inquiring, "You'll let me know what you think of it, right?"

She beamed. "Absolutely."

"Well I should…" He nodded towards the door. Kate stepped forward and opened her arms, obviously intending to hug him goodbye. He reciprocated with one arm, giving her back a gentle rub and being mindful not to pull her in too tight due to her delicate state. When she slid back from his embrace, he couldn't stop himself from placing a kiss on her forehand. "Take it easy, Kate."

She nodded. "Goodbye Castle and thanks again."

He gave her a half smile before leaving the house. Unlike when they parted in New York that time really did feel like goodbye.


	16. Chapter 16

_A/N: In honor of the Castle Season 7 premier tomorrow, I am giving you guys a back-to-back update. This means I will not update on Tuesday (I figure everyone will be too busy freaking out still) so the next update will be Thursday. Enjoy 7x01!_

* * *

**Sixteen**

Once again alone in her home, Kate leaned against the kitchen counter for a moment deciding what she should do next. Of course there were dozens of things she should have been doing, but there was only a select few things she could do in her current, recovering state. As she had not turned on her laptop since before her surgery, she decided that would be the best place to start.

After booting up her computer, she went directly to her email. Her eyes widened when she saw over a hundred messages. How was that even possible? It was summer! Granted, a great majority of those were sale advertisements or other junk emails she did not even bother reading.

Noticing Castle's email towards the top of her inbox, she smiled to herself and clicked it open. _Kate_, it read, _I've attached the final version of __Code Cracker__. Please let me know what you think. I really appreciate all the help you gave me and your patience during our three week partnership this summer. _It was signed simply "Castle."

With an excited smile, Kate opened the PDF attached to the email. The first page only contained the title. The second held the dedication.

_To the extraordinary KB._

Kate's finger froze hovering above the mouse track pad. Was this a joke? Or a trick? Surely something was amiss because that could not be the true book dedication. She scrolled back up to the first page of the document and saw Black Pawn's logo stamped on the bottom along with a copyright. If Castle really was going to send her a joke copy of the book, would he have gone to the trouble of adding that level of detail?

She scrolled back to the second page and read the dedication again. Her chest growing a bit heavy, she stared at it solidly, hardly blinking. After just a minute, she slammed the laptop lid down, removing the dedication from view in the same manner in which a young child covers its eyes in the belief that it makes them invisible. She simply did not have the physical or emotional strength at that moment to process whatever that dedication meant.

When Paul arrived home in the late afternoon, Kate was just getting up from a nap. She greeted him with a hug and a kiss and asked how his flight was. He, in turn, asked how she was feeling.

"Better, but I still get tired doing the littlest things; it's amazing," she told him, shaking her head. The appendix may have been a tiny organ, but it certainly caused a big pain in her life.

"Well I'm glad you're feeling better," he smiled at her. "Who was it that you said came to check on you?"

"Uh…Castle," she told him, trying to keep her tone casual, though she wasn't sure why.

Paul blinked. "Castle, like Richard Castle? Richard Castle the writer?" Kate nodded. "W-why? How?"

"Well, um, he happened to call me the day of my surgery so I told him about it and he flew out to surprise me. I don't really think he intended on staying, but it was nice that he did because I couldn't really do anything," she added with a light laugh.

"Uh huh," Paul replied, though his tone sounded suspicious. He set a plastic bag filled with Styrofoam takeout containers on the kitchen counter. "I stopped for dinner on the way home. Chicken fried rice from that Thai place we like. Is that good?"

"Well actually," she began with a slight cringe, unconsciously placing her hand over her belly. "I don't think I should eat that. My stomach has been a little off since the surgery. The doctors told me to eat bland for a few days so I've been eating rice and chicken."

"There's rice and chicken in this," he said matter-of-factly.

"Plain rice."

Paul looked at the takeout bag with a furrowed brow then turned his head back to Kate. "Ok I'll make you some plain rice."

"There probably isn't much left. Could you go to the store later?"

Paul's shoulders slumped and he made a noise of disbelief. "Honey, I just got home. Didn't you go?"

Kate folded her arms over her chest. "Paul, I just had my appendix out. This is the first day I've been up and moving around more than I've been sleeping. Plus the fact that I'm not allowed to drive until a doctor clears me, which probably won't be until Thursday or Friday."

With a slight eye roll he tried to hide by turning his back to her, he grumbled, "Fine I'll go tomorrow after my classes." She mumbled a thank you and then went to the pantry to determine how much rice remained in the box purchased by Castle.

"So," Paul began as he set the table with plates and silverware. "What made Castle contact you out of the blue last week?"

"It wasn't out of the blue. He emails me once in a while—you know, kind of like pen pals," she informed him.

Paul stopped at the edge of the table, still holding a pair of forks in his hand. "But you said he called you?"

"Right. He called me after he texted me a stupid joke and I told him I was in the ER."

Paul nodded. "And then he just…flew half way across the country."

Kate stared at him curiously. "What's going on Paul? Do you have a problem with Castle being here?"

He laughed. "Do I have a problem with a man—a famous, rich man—being alone in the house with my girlfriend? Yeah, a little bit."

"Oh my god!" she exclaimed, her tone fake as she opened her arms dramatically. "You're right. I forgot how you can have wild, crazy sex the day after you have an organ removed."

Paul narrowed his eyes at her the way he always did when she used excessive sarcasm during their arguments.

"My god, Paul. Do you have that little faith in me?"

"Of course not, but Castle-"

"Is a friend," she said firmly. "He helped me up the stairs so I didn't fall. He brought me soup. And he slept on the couch; nothing could have been more innocent."

Paul grumbled something under his breath that Kate didn't catch. A moment later, he added, "I guess I didn't realize you guys were that friendly."

She folded her arms over her chest. "Well, we are."

"So…will he be coming to visit you again?"

"I don't know, Paul, but he might. If he does, we could all have dinner; you might actually like him if you got to know him."

Paul laughed as though she was trying to make an argument for the existence of unicorns. "Doubtful. Castle isn't the type of person I want to be around." With that, he stepped around Kate so he could retrieve the takeout containers from the counter. Kate stood to the side, leaning against the doorframe and chewing on her lip, wondering what to make of the conversation that had just transpired.

* * *

Wednesday, not quite a week after her surgery, Kate spent the morning at home, doing her best to catch up with the work she had missed. Though she was thoroughly exhausted by the end of it, she had taught her three classes the prior day. Typically, at the end of her back-to-back classes, she tried to put in a few hours' worth of work in her office, but that day it was all she could do to make it home before falling instantly to sleep.

As Paul was unable to chauffer her around that day, she stayed at home, working on her laptop. She didn't mind, though, as it afforded her the opportunity to have an afternoon Skype conversation with her mother, who had finished her classes for the day. Kate spoke to her mother briefly on the phone the evening after her surgery, and they'd texted on Sunday, but they had yet to have a full post-incident conversation.

They spoke about her surgery and recovery for about forty minutes before her mother changed the subject entirely. "So," Johanna began, "they posted the book summary of Castle's new book online. You never told me his new character was based on you."

"She's not," Kate responded instantly.

Her mother arched an eyebrow. "A literary professor at a Manhattan university?"

"Who gets involved in the spy game! See not me."

"Uh huh."

Shifting nervously in her seat as she gazed down at the laptop screen, Kate asked, "What's that look for?"

"Are you in love with him?" Johanna asked with utmost sincerity.

She let out a loud laugh. "Me? In love with Richard Castle? That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!"

Kate's mother smiled knowingly. "So that's a 'yes' then?"

Kate glared at her through the camera on the computer screen. "Mom. I'm in love with Paul. I live with Paul!"

"I know that." Noticing a secretive expression on her daughter's face, Johanna prodded a bit further. "What?"

"He dedicated the book to me."

Johanna's eyebrows rose in surprise. "He did what?"

"The book. I have an advanced copy. He dedicated it to me," she confessed.

"What does it say exactly?"

"'To the extraordinary KB.'"

"Ah," the elder woman nodded, resting her chin against her fist. "So he's in love with you."

"Mom!" Kate groaned. "Seriously. Can we not treat everyone's life as though it's a Disney movie for like five seconds? Castle is not in love with me."

"Just to be clear, we are talking about the same Richard Castle, right? The man who found out you had appendicitis, flew across the country to be there when you woke up from surgery and subsequently spent three days at home with you so you wouldn't recover alone?" Johanna watched as her daughter averted her eyes. She could see her lips moving but did not catch any of the words that were said.

"What is it, Katie? This video may be grainy, but I can see in your eyes something is bothering you."

Kate took a deep breath, exhaling it as she shook her head. She had barely let herself think about the conversation she had with Castle the day he left, but she didn't want to hide it from her mother. "He thinks I should break up with Paul. He says Paul isn't good enough for me. But, I mean, it's so ridiculous to say that just because Paul didn't leave his conference for me. I mean yes, it was extremely nice of Castle to do what he did and I'm very grateful for that, but just because Paul didn't do that I'm not angry with him. I mean, I wasn't having an organ transplant or anything. Appendectomies are routine. Besides, he had commitments at the conference." Her defense was logical and well thought out. Most importantly, she fully believed what she said.

Kate's mother nodded. "I see. So Castle's opinion that you should break up with Paul is based solely on the fact that Paul did not rush to your side when you had a medical issue?"

Kate bit her lip. "There may be a few other reasons."

Johanna tilted her head to the side and gazed at the video feed of her daughter. "Katie, at the end of the day it's not Castle who is in a relationship with Paul; you are. It's your life; your future. You need to figure out what you want."

Kate's chest constricted at her mother's implication. She spoke the first defense that came to her mind. "But Mom, Paul and I have been together for five years."

"And? Relationships aren't based on obligations, Kate. They're based on love. Trust. Friendship. If you are in love with Paul, that's great. If he makes you happy, that's even better. But if you're not happy you shouldn't stay with him just because you've been together for the prior five years."

"But I've been with Paul for almost my entire adult post-college life."

Johanna nodded with an air of sadness. "I know. And that makes this decision all the more difficult. I don't envy you one bit Katie, but I do want you to be happy." She smiled and gazed at her daughter for just a moment. "Who makes you happy, Kate? With whom are you happiest?"

Kate shook her head. "That's not a fair question."

Her mother let out a little laugh. "Why ever not?"

"Because they're such different people! Paul is intelligent—an intellectual. We have conversations about current events and academic topics. And Castle…plays laser tag. In his apartment."

"So you're saying Castle's intelligence level doesn't match your own?"

"No, no—Castle is very intelligent." Kate corrected quickly. "He just…applies it differently. He uses humor and whimsy. He's basically a giant child. Not to mention a complete womanizer who is so, so irritating."

Johanna didn't even need to look at the video feed; she heard it in her daughter's voice. "But he makes you happy."

Kate folded her arms and grumbled. "So does the occasional funnel cake, but that doesn't mean I want to live my whole life at Coney Island."

Johanna threw her head back and laughed. "I seem to remember there once was a little girl who begged and begged to go and ride some rides instead of doing her homework…"

"I was eight; that doesn't count."

"Still…As I said Kate, the decision is yours and it won't be easy. You have to think about your life, you're future, and what you want." Johanna paused for a second before continuing, "But I take it the fact that you're so conflicted means you have a least some feelings for Castle. I mean, if you didn't feel anything for him, the things he said wouldn't have this big of an effect on you."

Though she hated to admit it, her mother had a valid point. If a random stranger on the street had come up to her and told her to break up with Paul, she would have ignored them without a second though, but Castle's words stuck with her; ate at her. Finally, with a sigh she said, "I don't know what I feel for Castle, Mom."

"Then," Johanna said wisely, "I think that's what you need to figure out first."


	17. Chapter 17

_A/N: So did we all watch the Castle premier? Have we recovered? I loved it - can't wait for more!_

_Now, back to the story!_

* * *

**Seventeen**

A week later, Kate's life was finally beginning to get back on track. She was able to drive once more and her energy levels were beginning to return to normal. She still had some restrictions from her surgery, but they lessened with each passing day, leaving Kate very thankful she was able to have the laproscopic procedure instead of the regular, open surgery, which would have left her incapacitated for much longer.

On Tuesday after her second class of the day, Kate was grabbing a quick lunch in her office when she received a text message from Castle.

_I told myself I was going to leave you alone, but I can't wait – did you start my book yet?_

She let out a little laugh, practically hearing the anxiousness in his tone. _No, sorry_, she replied, _I'm still trying to catch up on grading and other work since my surgery._

_I understand._

_But,_ she added, _I promise to read it the first chance I get…though that might not be for another week or two._

_That's okay. Thanks Kate._

Kate stared down at her phone for a moment before typing out another message. _Thanks for the dedication; that was very sweet_.

_Oh, you thought KB was you_?

A cold sweat formed at her brow when she read his response. She felt instantly nauseous. Of course she had thought KB was her, but—oh god—if it wasn't!

_Kidding_. Came his reply a second later. _Of course it was you, and I meant it; you are extraordinary. _

Kate growled at her phone. Of course he had to try and mess with her. He was such an ass…but an ass that brought a smile to her face for the first time that day.

* * *

That weekend, mostly because she needed a break from the atrocious grammar of her students, Kate began to read _Code Cracker_. She breezed through the first six chapters as she had already read and edited them. She noted that the final versions were largely the same as the ones she'd proofed. As the chapters grew higher in number, the more intrigued Kate became. She had only intended to take an hour-long break, but two hours later she was still engrossed in the tale of the professor and the CIA agent and their trek around the southern end of Western Europe to find the missing codes.

After a particularly harrowing escape from reprehensible members of the faux-Illuminati about midway through the book, the mystery solving duo ended up having passionate sex in a hotel room. Kate read the entire scene with one eyebrow raised. She could not help but wonder if this was one of the "surprises" Castle warned her about; one of the reasons he stopped sending her the story chapter by chapter.

At the end of chapter eleven, Kate forced herself away from the book to grab something to eat and grade a few more of her student's parents. When she realized she was doing so with only half of her attention span, she gave up and returned to _Code Cracker_. Paul was at a seminar that evening and she knew he wouldn't be back until after ten, giving her plenty of time to get lost in the world Castle created.

Since the onset of the tale, Professor Kaitlyn seemed continually annoyed with Agent Alex, though in the beginning that annoyance was mostly due to confusion with the entire situation. Under the guise of international security, Alex refused to give her too many details about what they were doing and why. As the story continued, Kaitlyn learned more both because he told her and because she was beginning to put some puzzle pieces together on her own.

Interestingly, after they slept together, Kaitlyn seemed even more annoyed with Alex. He was, in a word, difficult. He was arrogant and over-confident. He made jokes at inappropriate times and also seemed keen on taking unnecessary risks to progress their quest at as fast a rate as possible. At one point, when Kaitlyn scolded him for making a joke, he became irritated with her and said, "Would you lighten up? Life is too short to be so serious all the time. Sometimes, a little laughter goes a long way."

Reading that sentence, it hit her. It was them; the book was about them.

Castle had put much of himself in Agent Alex: the confidence, the humor, the rugged handsomeness. Kaitlyn retained many of her qualities. In fact, one afternoon during their three week partnership when she yelled at him after he'd hit her a few too many times with foam balls from a gun meant for a child, he'd said almost that exact sentence to her.

Kate continued reading with a new set of eyes, almost obsessively searching for similarities between herself and the professor in the novel. She half expected another one of their conversations to pop up, but it never did. The rest of the references were more subtle.

In the end, the professor and CIA Agent were able to solve the puzzle—ah, "crack the code"—and thwart the fake-Illuminati's terrible plot to assassinate a world leader. After saving the world, the unusual duo returned to the professor's hotel room, where Alex confessed that due to his CIA work, his life was extremely complicated. They spent the night together and, the next morning when she awoke, Kaitlyn was alone and left to wonder if she would ever see Alex again.

When she finished, Kate pushed her laptop aside and stared down at it curiously. The book was good—there was no doubt about that—and she would give Castle a proper (and glowing) review, but whether he'd meant to or not, the book had given her quite a lot to think about it. (Though, given their argument the day of his departure, Kate was more convinced than ever that he had meant the book to speak to her on a deeper level.)

Like Professor Kaitlyn, Kate's life started out as straight-laced and by the book (or boring, as Agent Alex put it). And, like Agent Alex, Castle brought excitement, intrigue—something new and different. Kaitlyn was left to wonder whether new and different was fun simply because it was new and different or if she'd be happy with new and different becoming her regular every day.

That choice, like everything in life, was a gamble. One without a guarantee. But, unlike her fictional counterpart, whose ruggedly handsome man had disappeared into the dark of night, Kate's version was well within her reach. True, he was several states away at that particular moment, but certainly not as unattainable as a CIA spy.

For the next several days, Kate found her thoughts continually drawn back to Paul and their future together. After her conversation with her mother, Kate realized Johanna was wrong. Yes, her feelings or lack thereof for Castle were a factor, but an extremely small one compared to the larger issue. Kate needed to figure out her feelings for Paul. Whether she saw a future with him or if everything they had was in the past.

Needing time to herself to think, Kate left their duplex the next Saturday morning informing Paul that she was going to go shopping at the local mall. She wandered around, window shopping, before grabbing some frozen yogurt for lunch and sitting in the bustling food court to think.

Kate had known for a long time that the largest issue in her relationship with Paul was a financial one. As they began their relationship at the onset of grad school, neither of them had very much spare cash to spread around, but that was to be expected; they were grad school students. Though she tried to use her credit card only in emergency situations, the balance inevitably grew higher than she wanted it to despite her best efforts. After all, New York wasn't exactly a cheap place to live.

Paul constantly told her that things would get better. Once they had their doctorates—once they were able to get real jobs—things would be better. They would have a comfortable income and would not continuously feel as though they were only scraping by. Still, things weren't easy.

So as not to add to her mounting debt (or the interest she was paying on it), Kate did not spent any more money than she had to. She only replaced items of clothing if they were torn, fraying, or simply looked too tired to wear as a professor at a prestigious university. When she did need to shop, she did mostly at second hand stores or, occasionally, during deep discount holiday sales.

Despite many arguments, Paul did not share her opinion. He did not see a problem with splurging on expensive wines, craft beers, or exotic foods. Kate had no problem with an occasional treat, but his off-the-budge purchases were almost daily. The more it continued, the more she found herself resenting Paul for his disrespectful attitude towards their spending.

Ever since she'd known him, Paul had been a self-centered and arrogant at times individual. When they first started dating, she was so amazed by his academic brilliance that she never noticed them. Then, when she did start to notice, she always found excuses to explain the behavior. Her friends tried to blame it on him being an only child, except Kate was also an only child and she did not possess such qualities. As time wore on, she simply grew to accept those traits.

Interestingly, Castle also possessed the traits of self-centeredness and arrogance, but in a completely different way than Paul. Though he could very much be all-about-Castle at times, he was kind and caring towards his friends and family. To Kate, the thought of Paul flying across the country to help a sick friend was laughable; he probably would not have even driven down the street—unless it was for his mother.

As her relationship with Paul progressed over the years, Kate questioned Paul's ability to be a father. When the subject was broached, Paul's opinion of having children remained, "Sure, someday," but yet he turned his nose up at getting a pet, stating that they were too much work. As she was not even remotely close to a financially stable position, Kate did not think too much about having children, but at her age it was hard not to think about it. She feared if she had children with Paul she would end up being the sole caregiver and that was not something she wanted. A relationship was a partnership and, the more she thought about it, she realized theirs was not weighted evenly. Not even close.

As she left the mall that afternoon, she could not help but think of Castle. He drove her crazy—there was no doubt about that—but he also made her smile; made her laugh. By the end of their summer partnership they had really found a rhythm together. In fact, they'd even had a few moments—moments that gave her chills if she thought about them. But, could a few moments build a relationship? A future? Did he even want that? She had no idea, but she couldn't let those questions enter her active thoughts. She would undoubtedly need to address the situation with Castle, but first she need to address the situation with Paul.

Back at home, Kate found Paul in the kitchen making himself a cheese and cracker snack. "Great news!" he announced on sight of her. "My mother is coming to visit us for Thanksgiving!"

"Ohhh," Kate said, trying her best to convey excitement. Great. Just what she needed. Turkey, stuffing, and a side of goddess.

"Yeah she really wants to see our new place and just to visit—you know how long its been since I've seen her, so I bought her a ticket. She comes in the day before Thanksgiving and then leaves on Saturday."

"Is Bobby-Joe coming?"

"No, he's spending the holiday with-"

"Wait," Kate interrupted when something from Paul's prior sentence computed in her head. "Did you just say _you_ bought her ticket?"

He blinked at her. "Well, yeah."

"Why…"

"Because she's coming to visit us," he said in an isn't-it-obvious tone.

"But that doesn't explain why she's not buying her own ticket!"

Paul gave her a serious look as he clasped his hands in front of him. "Well, you know they had a rough summer after the fire at their food stand. Mom said they just didn't make as much money as she expected. Plus she said this can be my birthday gift to her."

Kate rubbed her forehead, trying to comprehend what was happening. "So you bought her a ticket to come her in less than three weeks on one of the most expensive travel days of the year? How much did this cost, exactly?"

He ignored her question. "Kate, I don't think you're being fair here-"

"Oh! I'm not being fair!" she interrupted with a laugh. "Paul, you made a major purchase without consulting me first."

"But it's my mother."

"Yes I realize that but—hold on a second. What money did you use for this?" Kate asked. The last she knew about, his credit card was all but maxed out; there was no way he had enough balance to pay for a ticket. "Did you…did you use our Christmas money?" she asked, referring to the money they set aside to fly back to New York for the December holiday.

"Don't worry about it Kate—we'll replace that money in the next few weeks…or we'll put the tickets on your credit car-"

"NO!" Kate said forcefully, not even letting him finish the sentence. He gaped at her. "No, Paul; no. This is not okay. You did all this behind my back without consulting me while using _our_ money."

He folded his arms over his chest as his tone turned snippy. "I see, so we can go and visit your parents with our money, but my mother doesn't get the same consideration?"

Kate shook her head, taking a few short breaths in an attempt to respond factually not emotionally. "No, Paul; that's not the point. First, we're not going back to New York just to see my parents. Yes, we're staying with them, but we both lived there; we're going back to visit friends as well. Second, I'm not saying we couldn't have found a way to pay for some of your mother's ticket so she could visit us, but we have to talk about these things first."

Paul merely shrugged. Kate's blood boiled. This was it; this had to be it—the final straw.

"Paul, we need to talk."

"We are talking."

"About us—we need to talk about us. I'm not happy." As the words left her mouth, her heart began slamming harder in her rib cage yet, somehow, her shoulders felt lighter.

Paul's brow wrinkled deeply. "You're not happy? What does that mean?"

"It means I'm not happy; I haven't been happy. This…this relationship is too stressful. I mean, god, Paul we spent half our time fighting anyway."

He took a step towards her, his tone growing quiet. "So…so what does that mean? What are you saying?"

"I think we should break up." She stared at him, holding his eye line, refusing to let herself look away even though doing so would have made it easier.

"Kate!" Paul gasped, taking another step towards her. She took a step back. "Kate, I realize you're upset about the plane ticket but-"

"Yes, I am upset about that," she said calmly. "But that's just another thing on a list of reasons that's extremely long."

"Kate, listen; you're upset and that's fine, but don't make any rash decisions here. You need to sleep on this; you'll feel differently in the morning," he told her. Kate didn't respond as she watched him walk out of the kitchen; she doubted very much that a night of sleep would change her mind.

* * *

"Richard Castle, what are you doing?" Martha asked as she entered her son's office.

He glanced up at her from behind his computer monitor. "What do you mean, Mother? I'm just sitting here."

She shook her head. "No, you're thinking about her again, aren't you?"

"To whom are you referring?"

"You know _to whom_," she responded, mocking him. When he did not react to her words she added, "Kate—you're thinking about Kate."

Castle lowered his head. His mother was right, of course, but he didn't want to be that obvious. The truth was he thought about Kate every day—multiple times a day, in fact.

He really wasn't sure how things would go between them after their one-sided argument in her kitchen in Illinois. He'd said his piece and he was glad he did; he didn't regret it, but how she would respond to it remained in question. He wasn't even sure he'd hear a book review from her.

Much to his delight, two weeks after sending her the book in PDF he received just that. Not only was it a review, but a lengthy one. She loved the book, telling him she'd read the whole thing in one day because she simply couldn't stop. Her email full of praise gave him hope that maybe things weren't over between them.

The next week he texted her asking if she would be in the city for Thanksgiving; he was hoping they could have lunch. She replied with an apology, saying there wasn't enough time and she had too much grading and work in preparation for the end of the semester; however, she did add that she would be in New York for Christmas. Castle promptly invited her to his Christmas party, which was being held the Saturday before the holiday. He even told her to bring Paul. She responded that she would be glad to attend and that she would see him then; he couldn't have been happier.

"Richard?" his mother called his attention once more.

"I, ah, I emailed her the cover art for _Code Cracker_; she said she liked it," he informed her sheepishly.

Martha tilted her head to the side as she gazed at her son sympathetically. "Darling, you have to stop; she's with someone else."

"But she's not happy!"

She folded her arms over her chest. "And how do you know that?"

"Because I just know. I can see it; she's not happy. It would be different if she was happy or if the guy she was with was actually a decent person. Then…then maybe…I wouldn't feel like this," he sighed before lowering his chin to his hand.

Martha approached the desk and stood directly across from him. In her wise, motherly tone she asked, "And how is that?"

"I can't stop thinking about her."

She chuckled. "I've noticed." He glanced up, embarrassed. "Have you told her?"

"I can't."

Martha shrugged. "Then you have to move on. You won't see her again so—What?" she asked in response to the change in his expression.

"I invited her to the Christmas party—I invited them both." Castle said, leaning back in his seat.

"So what are you going to do? Duel for her in the living room," Martha said with a sweeping hand gesture.

Castle considered this. "Could work."

"Richard!"

"It's just…" He sighed but did not continue his thought until Martha prodded him.

"Yes?"

He clasped his hands together and leaned them against the edge of the desk. "When Kate responded to my invitation to the Christmas party she said, 'I'll be there' not 'We'll be there.'"

"So? This isn't a book; there's no subtext."

"Except there could be," he challenged.

"Still…you know this Paul fellow isn't your biggest fan. Maybe she's just coming without him."

"Maybe."

Martha sighed heavily. "Oh Richard. I know you care about this girl and that's great, but I do hate seeing you hurt. Promise me something? If she does show up at the Christmas party with her boyfriend you will try and move on."

"Sure, Mother," he said with a lackluster smile, though neither of them believed he was telling the truth.


	18. Chapter 18

**Eighteen**

On the evening of December twentieth, Kate arrived at Castle's loft with a stomach full of butterflies. Her hair was curled; she wore her mother's diamond earrings, and a brand new dress. Oddly, it felt a little like prom night.

She had been back in Manhattan for a little over twenty-four hours and was finally beginning to get her sea legs once more. It surprised her how much just four months in suburbia had calmed her and made her unused to the hustle and bustle of city life. Just when she feared she preferred a suburban lifestyle, she was able to hop on a subway and zip downtown in a matter of minutes. Sighing with relief she realized where she was meant to be.

That morning over breakfast her mother insisted on taking her shopping. Kate protested, horrified. It was the last Saturday before Christmas. The stores would be mobbed! But her mother didn't care. They didn't have to buy anything, she said; she just wanted to spend time with her daughter.

As they walked, Kate updated her on her life both academic and personal. She also told her mother about the party at Castle's that evening and what she intended to say to him when she was there. Coincidentally, as they had that part of the conversation, they arrived in the dress department at Macy's.

Her mother insisted she try on a black cocktail dress that fell just above her knees. The otherwise ordinary dress was accentuated by a black lace cutout section over the shoulders giving the allure that she was wearing a strapless dress with a partially see-through lace cap-sleeve drape over top. The dress fit her perfectly and her mother insisted that she wear it to the party that night. Kate refused, insisting the dress she had would be fine, but her mother would hear none of it. Johanna purchased the dress for her daughter saying that the evening she was about to have warranted a new outfit.

Smoothing her skirt and clearing her throat in a failed attempt to disperse her nerves, Kate knocked on the apartment door. She was afraid her knock wouldn't be heard over the noise of the party, but a moment later the door opened and she was greeted by Castle's mother, who was wearing a flowing sequin-covered brilliant red gown.

"Kate! Welcome."

"Thank you and merry Christmas," Kate told her.

"Merry Christmas to you too," Martha said, giving her a gentle hug. She ushered Kate into the apartment, where Kate handed over her gift of a bottle of wine, which Martha thanked her for. When she was able to fully view the apartment she found that, much to her surprise, it was already filled with people. Over the hum of conversation, instrumental Christmas music could be heard.

After passing her coat to Martha, Kate made her way through the party until she spotted the host. Standing beside the piano speaking with another guest stood Castle dressed in a black suit with a black shirt and a red tie. He spotted her approaching and his face brightened.

Once he excused himself from his guest, he walked over to her and greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. "Kate! You made it."

"Of course," she smiled at him.

"Did, uh," he gazed at the area immediately around her, "Paul come with you?"

Ah, she thought; here's the moment. "Actually, Paul and I broke up."

Castle felt his heart attempt to escape his body by leaping out of his throat. "R-Really?" he stammered.

She nodded. "Yeah, about six weeks ago."

"Oh…oh! Well Kate that's-"

"Richard Castle!" Another partygoer interrupted their conversation by pushing his way in between them and shaking Castle's hand. When it was clear the man intended to speak with Castle longer than to just say hello, Kate wandered into the kitchen to find herself a drink. She picked at some of the snacks on the table and chatted with Alexis when she came up to say hello. Almost half an hour passed before Castle found her again.

"I'm so sorry about that."

"It's okay," she smiled at him. "You're the host; I understand."

He nodded, nervously running his hands across the front of his jacket as he gazed at her. "You look beautiful, by the way; I should have said that before. You're stunning."

Feeling a blush in her cheeks, Kate turned her eyes towards the ground. "Thanks. You look pretty handsome yourself."

"Kate listen-"

"Oh look!" Martha said loudly, drawing their attention away from each other. She sashayed towards them, parting clusters of party-goers as she approached. "You two are under the mistletoe!"

Kate glanced upwards to see a small sprig of green plastic hanging off one of the light fixtures above them. She looked back at Castle to see he wasn't looking at her, but instead at his mother. He growled at her.

"Mother."

"What?" she asked innocently. "I'm just pointing out the obvious."

Castle turned his head back to Kate only to find the space in front of him vacant. Kate was escaping around the opposite side of the kitchen. More annoyed than ever, Castle turned back to the woman in red. "Do you see what you did?" he hissed quietly.

Martha shrugged. "I thought I was helping you out."

"And instead you probably scared her!" he retorted.

Castle made to go after Kate, but was once again thwarted by a variety of guests. Crossing his living room was beginning to feel like swimming in quicksand; he wasn't making any progress. As much as he wanted to shove people aside and leap over pieces of future to reach Kate at record speed, he knew he could not. He was the gracious host and needed to play the part. After all, that party was not just attended by his friends and family, but by executives at Black Pawn who, in Gina's words, deserved more than just a hello from their star writer.

That time, it took him forty minutes before he could escape the latest gawker interested in pressing his flesh. By the time he surfaced, Kate was nowhere in sight. Almost frantic and fearful that she'd left, he asked his daughter if he'd seen her. Alexis replied that she believed she saw Kate duck into the office. Castle took a moment to straighten his tie before making his way through the outskirts of the apartment and into his bedroom. He did not want to risk anyone seeing him enter the office from the regular door and follow him; he wanted a moment to speak with Kate without being interrupted.

Castle pulled open the secondary office door and found Kate standing behind his desk, her eyes scanning the hundreds of titles on his shelves. He stepped in and shut the door behind him quietly before asking, "Like what you see?"

She jumped and whipped her head towards his voice. "You scared me!" she said with a slight laugh.

He apologized. "Sorry. I'm glad you came in here."

"It's a little quieter," she said with a soft smile.

He nodded, approaching her at a slow, cat-like pace. "And emptier."

"Right."

"Sorry about my mother before..."

She shook her head. "No problem."

They stared at each other for a moment. "So…you mentioned something about breaking up with Paul."

She nodded. "I did. As it turns out, you were right. I deserve someone better."

"Yes," he said, his voice lowering slightly as he stopped his pace about a foot from her. "You do."

"Now." She took a step towards him as a slow, sexy smile crossed her face. "I believe I owe you a kiss."

His eyebrows raised in surprise and he glanced nervously out towards the kitchen. "Oh but-"

She shook her head almost imperceptibly. "I just didn't want everyone to see this."

With that, she closed the distance between them and pressed her lips against his. Castle reacted instantly, skimming his hands under her jawline to cradle her face as their lips wound together. After a moment he pulled back, stunned as though he'd been blind and suddenly regained sight. "O-okay." He stammered. "Wow."

She laughed deeply and pulled him in for another kiss. That time, he slid his hands to her waist, pulling her body into his and simultaneously turning it so that her backside rested against the edge of the desk. He drew her in closer as her arms wound around his neck.

"Richard, are you—oh," Gina stopped short when she opened the office door. The kissing duo on the desk jumped apart, one looking a bit more embarrassed than the other. A Cheshire-cat-like smile crossed Gina's face. "Dr. Beckett—I didn't know you were here."

"What do you want Gina?" Castle asked, perturbed.

"Gina did you—oh, you did find him—oh…" Martha's voice dropped off when she saw Kate ducking behind Castle attempting to subtly remove the smudges of her lipstick with her fingertip, but the damage was already done; Castle's lips bore the same crimson marks.

"There's someone here to meet you, Rick," Gina told him as she beckoned him. He gave her a look, but her tone turned firm. "Now."

Castle turned towards Kate with an apologetic expression. She shook her head. "It's fine; go."

"You'll wait for me?" he asked. She confirmed with a nod. He gave her a soft smile before following his ex-wife-slash-publisher out of the room.

"So," Martha said once they had left. "I take it you broke up with the boyfriend."

Embarrassed, Kate nodded. "Yes…"

"Well, if you don't mind me saying—thank god," Martha said, throwing her hands up in the air. Kate's brow wrinkled. "I just could not stand one more day of my son moping around like a sad little puppy dog."

Shaking her head gently, Kate began, "I don't-"

"You, my dear, have quite a hold on him," Martha continued. Finally catching her implication, Kate's ears turned redder—if that was even possible. "Come, my dear. Let's get a drink and you can tell me all about what it's like to live in Illinois."

* * *

After the appropriate amount of schmoozing with Gina's latest client, Castle attempted to return to the office—and Kate—but Gina grabbed him by the arm. "I just wanted to say that I'm happy for you, Rick. Really," she added at his skeptical expression. "I've known you for a long time and I've never seen you look at anyone the way you look at her."

Castle parted his lips, but remained silent, not sure of what to say.

"Just don't forget," she added, "I'm the one responsible for you two meeting."

He cocked his head to the side and offered her a poisonous smile. "Oh! So close! You were almost human for a second." She gave him a mocking expression before walking off to mingle.

Fortunately, by that time in the evening, the party was beginning to wind down and it did not take him more than ten minutes to cross the living area. When he returned to the office, he found Kate sitting on the edge of the window seat staring down at the streets below. When she heard his footsteps, she looked over to him with a gentle smile. "It started to snow."

"Too bad it's not really Christmas, then." He sat down beside her, placed his left index finger under her chin and used it to tilt her face up so that he could kiss her. "Mm," he sighed when he leaned back. "That was totally worth the wait."

She smiled at him and placed her right hand in his. He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb for a moment before saying, "Kate, listen about the kind of man you deserve-"

"Wait, please," she interrupted him. "I just need to say something first." He nodded, agreeing to her request and she continued. "I need time, Castle. I just ended a relationship that lasted almost six years. I need time to myself; time to figure things out. Besides, it's not even like I'm living here in the city; I have to finish the spring semester in Illinois."

She took a deep breath before continuing. "But when I come back…I'd like to see what this is—what it could be. I mean, that's still five months away, so if you don't want to wait-"

"Kate," he cut her off with an almost laugh. "I haven't been with anyone since the summer."

Her eyes widened. "You-you haven't?"

"No! Of course not! How could I be with someone else when all I could think about was you?"

She felt her whole face begin to blush again. "I…well, you did write that book character based on me."

He brushed his fingers against her crimson cheek and said with a grin, "I did. I'll wait, Kate; as long as you need."

She grabbed his hand from her face and held it with both of hers. "I want us to be friends, Castle."

He looked at her, bemused. "We are friends."

She groaned slightly. "You know what I mean—keep getting to know each other as friends."

"Okay," he agreed then added with mild uncertainty. "But can we be friends who also kiss a little bit?"

"Yes," she agreed with a laugh.

His face broke into a huge grin. "Perfect. Oh! Hey! I have an idea. The weekend before Memorial Day—you'll be back in the city then, right? We can go out to my place in the Hamptons and celebrate your return."

Kate laughed. "Are you seriously planning a date five months in advance?"

"When it's with you? Absolutely!" he confirmed.

She stared at him with mild amazement for a moment before nodding. "Okay. Deal."

"Great! I-"

"Richard!"

"Damn it!" he hissed at the sound of his mother's call from the other room. "Isn't this party over yet?"

Kate laughed. "It's okay. I should get going anyway if it's starting to snow."

He jumped to his feet. "Let me get you a car."

"Castle," she said warningly. He gave her a 'I can't help myself' expression. "I'll be fine."

"Wait," he grabbed her arm as she stepped away from him. "When will I see you again? I mean, I assume you'll be in the city at least until Christmas."

She bobbed her head. "I don't leave until January fourth."

"Then I'll text you. We can go to a movie or something."

"A horror movie?" she asked. He nodded eagerly. "Sounds good. Goodnight Castle."

"Wait." Using his hand on her arm he pulled her in for two quick kisses.

She pulled back, smiled, and brushed his cheek with her hand. "Goodnight, Castle."

* * *

_A/N: Confession - this was originally going to be the last chapter, but then when I was writing it I was like...nope, this story isn't over yet, so you have 4 more coming!_


	19. Chapter 19

**Nineteen**

On Sunday morning, the day after Castle's Christmas party, Kate awoke with a ridiculous grin on her face. Seriously. It was ridiculous. Or so she thought to herself as she examined her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She literally could not stop smiling.

Pulling on her robe, she shuffled her way into the kitchen in search of coffee. There, she found her mother, who smiled on sight of her. Without even bothering with a good morning, Johanna asked, "So? How'd it go? Did you talk to him?"

Kate bobbed her head.

"And?" her mother questioned, clearly impatient.

Kate grinned. "He kissed me…well, I suppose technically I kissed him. And then kissed me. And told me he'd wait. And said he hasn't been with anyone in a while because all he thinks about is me. Mom," she whined feeling girlish and stupid for the first time in many years.

"What?" her mother replied with pure amusement.

Kate clapped her hands on her aching cheeks. "I feel like my face is going to break."

"I can see that."

"Wait a second," Jim Beckett asked when he entered the kitchen. "Who is Katie kissing?"

"Richard Castle," her mother answered.

Jim's brow furrowed. "The writer?"

"Yes, please try to keep up dear," his wife chastised.

Jim looked over at his daughter, who was still grinning like an idiot. "Well, as long as you're happy, Katie. And as long as Mr. Castle treats you better than that arrogant professor did."

"Dad!" she chastised, not wanting any Paul trash-talk even if in light of recent events it was warranted.

"What?" Jim merely shrugged. "I never liked him and I like him even less now that-"

"Yes, I know," Kate grumbled, "but I don't want to talk about Paul right now."

"Yes, Jim. Just let her be happy about Castle," Johanna said wisely.

As she ate breakfast, Kate wondered how long she would have to wait before Castle texted her. Or should she text him? No, wait—he did say that he would text her, so he would, right? God, she thought, was dating really this difficult? She'd been out of the loop for six years and was beginning to have traumatic flashbacks to her college dating years where "Should I call him or will he call me?" was always the question.

Fortunately, she did not have to wait too long. Shortly after eleven Castle texted her and invited her to a movie the following afternoon, after which he would make her dinner. She replied and informed him that it sounded suspiciously like a date. Per their agreement, they were to begin their relationship as friends (who also kissed a little bit). He replied that no, it was not a date; this was something he did for all his friends. With a smile, she agreed and their friendship non-date was set.

The following afternoon, Kate met Castle at an art house theater playing a foreign horror film he told her that she just had to see. He got them popcorn and drinks after she insisted on paying for the movie tickets. The theater only had ten other people in it, so the movie felt like their own private showing. They took a seat towards the back—the theater location they both preferred—and watched the film in silence.

Back out on the streets, they hopped the nearest subway line to return to Castle's loft. As they rode, Kate told him all about her new appreciation for the subway. She promised him that never again would she complain about the bizarre and occasionally unpleasant sights and smells of the underground transportation system. It was by far the most convenient way to travel and she could not wait to have it back in her day-to-day life.

Upon returning to the loft, Kate inquired about the whereabouts of Castle's mother and daughter. Alexis, he told her, was out with friends and he had no idea where his mother was. Evidently their unspoken agreement was that if she didn't keep too close of a watch on him he would do the same to her. Besides, he said, there were things about her life he just didn't want to know about.

Making good on an earlier promise, Castle presented Kate with his winter vegetable soup as an appetizer to their meal. The main course consisted of steak and various sides that he whipped up. Kate praised each item as more delicious than the last and by the time he presented her with dessert (brownies—he'd run out of time for something fancier), she was positively stuffed.

"So we haven't talked much about you this afternoon," Castle said to her as they cleaned up the leftovers together. "Did you find an apartment for yourself in Illinois?"

Kate dropped her hands to her sides. "Actually no. I…I'm sort of still living with Paul."

Castle blinked at her. "What?"

Kate cringed. "I know, I know. God, Castle; my life is such a disaster right now. I mean, its completely screwed up—I'm a total mess." She covered her face with her hands before raking her fingertips through her hair and looking at him with a rather tragic expression.

"Hey," he said gently, taking two steps forward so he stood beside her. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her in close. She responded by looping hers around his waist and burying her face in his neck, breathing in deeply the calming scent of his aftershave. He skimmed his hands across her back and rested his chin against the top of her head. "I'm sure it's not that bad. Just tell me about it, okay?"

He led her to the couch with one arm around her shoulders and they sat facing each other as she began her explanation. "Paul didn't really take the break up well. Not that I expected him to, but I took full blame. I said I'd leave but…" She sighed heavily and dropped her chin to her chest.

"What?" he encouraged.

"He's become so—for lack of a better term—mean."

"How so?"

Kate shook her head and leaned back from him. "No, never mind. I shouldn't burden you with any of this."

Castle slid a bit closer to her. "Kate, I know you said you wanted us to stay friends at first, and that's fine, but we're still in something here. Let's call it a…pre-relationship. Either way, it's some form of a partnership; we're in this together so, please, burden away," he said, opening his arms wide as though she was going to load him down with physical baggage not just figurative.

She smiled gently and rested her forearms against her thighs. "Okay, well when Paul and I moved to Champaign we leased our house together—the lease is in both our names. The same with the car we got. When I first told Paul I wanted to break up, he fought me on it, of course, saying we could work things out, but I was just done, you know?

"So when I told him I would just move out he said he still expected me to pay for half of our rent and half of our car payment each month. There was no way I could afford two rent payments, so we agreed to this insanely bizarre roommate situation. I live on the air mattress in the spare bedroom. We share the kitchen and the bathroom, but for the most part we rarely communicate unless it's about splitting the electric bill or something."

"Oh Kate," Castle sighed at the upsetting expression on her face. He reached his hand over and put it atop one of hers. "You can't keep living like that."

She shrugged. "It's not that horrible. I mean, okay, it's bad," she corrected at his disbelieving expression, "but it's only for sixteen more weeks; that's survivable."

"I suppose," Castle said, though he still remained unconvinced.

Kate's lips twisted into a wry smile. "I haven't told you the worst part yet—another reason why I'm staying there."

"Okay?"

"Paul has—we have—a lot of credit card debt," she told him. Castle's expression fell and Kate cringed. "It's bad Castle; really bad."

He searched her face for an indicator of how dire the situation really was. "How bad is really bad? Over ten thousand?"

She nodded. "And, the truth is, I didn't even really know. I mean, I _knew_ but I didn't know. See," she shook her head slightly at his perplexed expression. "Before Paul and I got together I had a credit card and he had a credit card—obviously. About three years ago, when we got our first place in the city together, we got a joint card—a Visa. That was the card we used for most of our expenses. Now, we made monthly payments on it, of course, but we were grad students and Manhattan isn't exactly cheap so, inevitably, we carried a balance on it.

"About a year after that, we got a MasterCard together, but that was our 'For Emergencies Only' card. Paul put some magazine subscription on it so it would show activity, but it was always paid off every month—it never carried a balance."

"I'm sensing an 'until…' coming," Castle chimed in.

Kate smiled gently. "I'm getting there. In addition to the joint card we both kept our personal cards. I didn't use mine that much. I had my Netflix account on it, and a few things I used for school. It did carry a balance for a while, but now it's all paid off. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for Paul."

Kate cleared her throat before continuing. "The last week of July, we went to rent a U-Haul so we could drive all of our stuff to Illinois. It just so happened the same week our joint Visa had a fraud flag put on it. It was nothing we did, but Visa was canceling the card and sending us a new one, so when Paul went to rent the truck he had to use his own credit card…and it was rejected because it was maxed out."

"And you had no idea," Castle deduced.

Kate shook her head. "The worst part was that our Visa had a pretty high balance as well—nearly eight grand. I wasn't happy with that, believe me, but we had put almost all of our expenses on it that summer because we had to pay real cash as a security deposit, which was almost six thousand dollars."

"What?!" Castle exclaimed. "What the hell is your rent on that place?"

"Twenty-seven-fifty."

"A month!? That's like…Manhattan rent."

"Except you get more than five hundred square feet," she said pointedly. He nodded. "And trust me, I wasn't thrilled about that either, but the house we originally wanted had a fire—long story. Anyway the point is that during our drive halfway across the country Paul and I had plenty of time to talk about his financial dilemma. Evidently, he saw no problem with making the minimum payment every month because if you make the minimum payment the credit card company doesn't come after you nor do they raise your rates."

"Yeah, but…your balance keeps growing because of the interest," Castle said in an isn't-it-obvious tone.

"Right," Kate nodded. "But clearly that didn't concern him."

Castle thought about this for a moment. In his financial position, carrying a balance on a credit card was not a concern to him, but there had been a time in his life when it had been. He always did his best to pay as much as he could each month so that he did not end up paying too much in interest. It appeared Paul did not share that opinion. "Okay…but there's something I don't understand. If that credit card is in Paul's name, that's his debt; it's not your responsibility."

"Right, absolutely. Unfortunately—and I only found this out after I broke up with him," she pointed out clearly, "he started using our joint MasterCard to make charges. And since that card is in both of our names…" Kate let her voice drift off.

Castle huffed out a short breath. "Okay—this guy is an asshole."

"Yes, I know," Kate sighed. "But there's nothing I can do. Legally, that debt is mine just as much as it is his."

"I realize that but…god, this is just absurd!" he practically shouted. Then, at the expression on her face, he softened his tone. "I'm sorry, Kate, really. I'm just…very frustrated for you."

She smiled at him gently. "Well I appreciate that, but now you see why I'm still living with Paul. By the time I pay the rent, utilities, the car loan, and the credit card bill I barely have enough left to buy a bottle of water let alone anything else."

"Wait a second," he held up his hand. "What…what did you and Paul agree on to pay off these credit cards?"

"Fifty-fifty split."

Castle stood from the couch in anger. "But it's not all your debt!"

She nodded. "Hence why I said Paul is being really mean about this."

"Oh, I could come up with a few more words than mean."

"Castle," she warned him.

"I'm serious, Kate. This is like theft!"

Kate shrugged. "What choice do I have? We have to get the card balances down to zero so we can close the accounts."

Castle sat down on the couch again, finally seeing an opportunity to alleviate her frustration. "Then let me help you."

Kate sat upright and leaned back from him. "Whoa, Castle—no. That's not why I told you all of this."

"I know it's not, but that doesn't mean I can still help. Let me pay off your half of the cards. Then you don't have to live with that unconscientious bastard anymore."

Kate shook her head. "No, thank you. That's a very nice offer—my parents made a similar one—but I'm going to tell you the same thing I told them: I need to do this on my own."

"Why?" he asked with genuine confusion. "Why are you punishing yourself?"

She shook her head. "I'm not; I'm following through on a commitment. I'll be fine, Castle; don't worry," she said, when she saw nothing but concern written all over his face.

He sighed heavily. "Kate…"

She gave him a convincing smile. "Really, I am. Just don't expect an elaborate Christmas gift from me…or, actually, any gift." She added with a laugh.

Castle cringed slightly. "Okay, but I already got you something."

She raised a suspicious eyebrow. "You got me something? How? When?"

"I can't tell you; it's not Christmas yet," he said with a childish grin.

"Is it small? Or returnable?"

He shrugged innocently. "I dunno."

"Castle!"

"Don't worry, Kate," he winked. "You're going to love it."


	20. Chapter 20

**Twenty**

Much sooner than Kate would have liked she was boarding a plane westward bound. The only thing getting her through the trip was knowing that from that point there would only be sixteen weeks until she was back in Manhattan; back where she was meant to be.

Kate's time in New York over Christmas was not only wonderful, but something she needed more than she even realized. She and Castle spent the majority of the day after Christmas together at his apartment in front of a roaring fire watching movies and laughing together. She hadn't thought about it much until that day, but she realized his smile was her favorite feature on his face. Every time he smiled at her she felt a little happier—if that was even possible.

During this day, Castle presented her with the Christmas gift he had for her: an iPad. Kate immediately refused the gift, but Castle countered her protest by saying it wasn't even really a gift—it was a re-gift. The iPad was actually his old one. He'd purchased himself a new one that same month and he had no use for the second tablet, so he was giving it to her. This, he said, would be perfect for them. Because of their multi-state separation, they would be video chatting frequently and the iPad made such communication a breeze. Though she continued to protest, she ultimately gave in mostly due to the fact that he told her if she left without it he would simply mail it to her in Illinois.

After spending a few days alone in the city, taking some time to herself, and also spending time with her parents, Kate was back at Castle's for New Year's Eve. She was somewhat reluctant to join him that evening, as his secretive planning sounded very date-like, but he won her over saying all he wanted was a kiss at midnight; the rest of their activities would fall into the friendship category. Kate agreed and they snuggled together on the loveseat in his office to watch the ball drop and share a kiss.

Though she had originally intended on leaving shortly thereafter, the night was frigid and freezing rain was beginning to fall outside. Because of this, Castle somehow—though she wasn't sure how—convinced her to stay. As friends, of course—friends who kissed on occasion and evidently shared a bed. Though she pretended to protest, Kate actually found that waking up with Castle's arm around her waist really was the best way to start the New Year; it was a sign of so much to come.

Once the school year began, Kate and Castle exchanged daily texts and phone calls at least a few times a week. Beginning in mid-January during the week of _Code Cracker_'s release, Castle began a ten city book tour. With his travel schedule and her class schedule their communication became a bit more sporadic, but they reserved Saturday night as their friendship-date night for video chatting.

On Valentine's Day night, Kate propped her iPad up in its case on her bed and waited for Castle's video call. When she accepted it, she saw not him filling her screen, but what appeared to be a picture of a flower bouquet torn out of a magazine. "What are you doing?" she asked with slight annoyance.

He peeked at her over the top of the image. "It's Valentine's Day; I'm pretending to give you flowers."

"Oh."

"What's the matter Kate? You seem annoyed. Are you okay?"

"Oh, I'm great; just great." She replied

He took away the flower image and looked at her suspiciously. "I'm sensing sarcasm."

She sighed. "It's just… Paul is downstairs. With a date."

"On Valentine's Day?" Castle asked. "And…you're upset because he's moving on?"

"No! God, no," she said quickly. "He can do whatever he wants. I think his behavior over the past few months has cured me of all those feelings. Plus I have you," she added with a smile, which he returned.

"So what's the problem then?"

"It's a student."

"A student? Like one of his students?" Castle asked. Kate nodded. "Well…that's a little-"

"Gross," Kate finished for him. "She's even calling him 'professor.'"

"Whoa," Castle said with an air of admiration. "Paul's a little kinkier than I thought he was."

"Castle!"

"Sorry," he chuckled.

"So…," she sighed and picked at some lint on her pants. "I'm thinking I need to move out." She glanced up to gauge his reaction. When she saw him throw his hands up in the air she said, "I know, I know, you've been saying that all along, but I'm finally realizing that even though it's just twelve more weeks, I really, really don't want to stay here."

"Nor should you have to."

She nodded. "Right, so I've been looking for places, but it's been…problematic."

"Well sure," Castle agreed. "I'm sure most places only want to give out a year lease."

"Yes, its been hard to find a month to month, not to mention a month to month that I can afford. Plus I need one in a location either close to my building or near the right bus route. I mean, I can walk; I'm a New Yorker, but I can't walk a few miles one way—in the snow!"

"Maybe you could get a sled dog," he suggested.

Kate ignored him. "Anyway, I've been looking into getting loans, but thanks to the past few years my credit score is crap, so I don't know how hard it will be or what interest rate it'll come with."

"You could always just take up my offer," he said simply.

Kate shook her head. At least twice since Christmas he'd offered to give her the money she needed, but she'd continually refused him. "I can't take your money, Castle; it's not right."

"Then how about a loan from the Bank of Castle? You're already pre-approved," he told her with an enticing grin. She eyed him skeptically. "Please, Kate," he continued. "It upsets me to see you this stressed out about something I could easily fix."

"I dunno." She chewed on her bottom lip as she considered his offer seriously for the first time. "I'm kind of a believer in never borrowing money from friends."

"What about quasi-boyfriends?"

"I think it's even truer then," she told him. Running her fingertips over her temples, she looked at him through the tablet screen. "I just don't know, Castle. I mean, this relationship is so new, and I just…and it would be so much money."

"How much?"

She shrugged. "I don't know, exactly. I'd have to figure it out."

"Well, let's do that now," he said. She saw him move out of the range of the video camera for a moment and then return with what appeared to be his cell phone in his hand. "Three months' rent plus security deposit… that's probably about four thousand. Then, what about your joint cards with Paul?"

"Well, we paid off the MasterCard and closed that account—finally. But the Visa still has a huge balance. I'd guess my half is about four thousand."

"So you need eight," he concluded.

Kate thought about this for a moment. "I still need to make my payments on the duplex and the car, but I'm already doing that with my salary so-"

"Wait," he interrupted her. "Why are you going to make payments on a car you won't even be able to use?"

"Because, just like the house the lease is in both our names. If I don't pay my share the car dealer could come after me."

Castle grumbled under his breath. "Okay, then how about instead of loaning you money, I fly out there and Paul and I have a little chat."

"Castle, no!" she said quickly. "I don't want you involved in this."

Castle said nothing, though it was evident he was thoroughly unhappy with the arrangement. Finally, he said, "Eight thousand?"

Kate bit her lip. "Castle, really, if that's too much-"

He laughed lightly. "Kate, please; remember who you're talking to. I'll email you my accountant's info You send him your bank account and you'll have the money transferred to you on Monday. Problem solved."

"I will pay you back," she promised.

He shrugged. "You don't have to, but if that would make you feel better."

"With interest!"

"Kate," he said firmly. "I won't take your interest."

"But-"

"No."

"Fine." She stared at him for a moment. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Not just for the money—for this," she said, gesturing towards the screen. "For figuring this out with me—for wanting to figure this out with me."

He smiled at her. "Always."

* * *

As promised, Castle's accountant transferred eight thousand dollars to her bank account the next business day. That was the easy part of the plan; the next would be more difficult. On Tuesday after her classes, Kate called up the financial company responsible for their credit card and asked if it was possible for a balance transfer to be done. That was to say, the joint account would be closed, and the balance transferred to a new card solely in Paul's name. When the woman on the other end of the phone sounded hesitant, Kate told her a shortened version of the breakup and subsequent financial woes and the woman at the credit card company informed her that she was sure they could work something out.

After spending hours on her laptop scouring every conceivable apartment area in the city, Kate was able to find a sublet for the final three months of the spring semester. The price was much higher than she would have liked, but the value of being away from Paul was well worth it. She put down a security deposit with a move in date of March first.

Once her housing was settled, she broke the news to Paul: she was moving out. Per their agreement, she would continue to pay half of the rent on their duplex and half of the car payment, but only until May. After that, he was on his own. In addition, she told him she would be paying off her half of the remaining credit card debt in full and she expected that account to be closed and the remaining balance to be transferred to a card in his name only.

Naturally, Paul was stunned and attempted to resist, but Kate remained steady. After a large fight, several smaller arguments, and a few veiled threats Paul relented. Their final joint account was closed and Kate was once again credit card debt free.

One of the conditions Kate agreed to in their arrangement was that once she moved to her new apartment she would no longer use their car. Quite frankly, as she was moving to the other side of town, it would have been inconvenient for her to use it anyway. She did, however, require it to move her belongings.

Much to Kate's surprised, the last day of February Paul came to her as she packed the last of her belongings in the living room. He apologized for being obstinate during the prior few weeks and offered to help her move as a peace offering. Though Kate was suspicious, she agreed as some of her boxes were quite heavy.

On the evening of the first of March, Kate and Paul worked mostly in silence, loading her belongings into the back seat and trunk of their Toyota. It was quickly determined that two trips would be necessary, even considering the only piece of furniture (term used loosely) she was taking with her would be the air mattress.

During their second round of loading the vehicle, Paul blocked Kate's path as she tried to reenter the house and asked, "Is there someone else?"

Kate groaned and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Paul…"

"We were together for nearly six years, Kate. I think you owe me that."

She stared at him for a moment before simply saying, "Yes," and then pushing past him.

He followed her. "Is it someone from the university?" When Kate didn't respond he continued. "Is it Richard Castle?"

Kate froze with a box of kitchen supplies in her hands. Her eyes wide she asked, "What makes you think it's him?"

He folded his arms over his chest. "Because I've had my suspicions."

She narrowed her eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means, Kate, that no man flies across the country to visit the sickbed of someone he has a casual friendship with. Besides, I heard you on the phone with him."

Kate nearly dropped the box she held. "You've been listening to my phone calls!?"

Paul shrugged. "Not intentionally, but we live together. Inevitably, I'm going to hear some things that go on."

Kate bit her lip before snidely revealing to him the things she heard _going on_ while she was trying to sleep.

"Have you been having an affair?"

She brushed off the idea. "Of course not. Nothing happened while we were together, Paul."

He eyed her dubiously. "Not even when he came out here?"

Frustrated with his instance that something unsavory happened during Castle's visit, Kate slammed her box down on the counter causing all the silverware inside to rattle. "Okay, how about we take out your appendix and see how frisky you're feeling the day after surgery?"

Paul pursed his lips. "There's no need for that tone, Kate."

"Clearly, there is because you don't believe me when I say nothing happened." With that, she snatched the box off the kitchen counter and pushed past him to place it in the car.

Fifteen minutes later, all of her belongings had been removed from the duplex and they were on their way to her apartment. As she drove she could tell Paul was seething in the seat beside her, but she ignored him. As long as he remained silent, she could ignore him. Unfortunately, that didn't last long.

"God, Kate," he groaned. "Richard Castle? Richard Castle! That's like…that's like going from a fine French wine to the box of red you got at a gas station."

Kate stared straight ahead and simply said, "I don't have to defend myself to you."

"But he's a scoundrel!"

She eyed him sideways. "You don't know him, Paul; he's a good man."

"A rich man."

That time, Kate's head whipped towards him. "Excuse me?" she asked in a tone higher than her normal voice.

Paul looked at her, eyes full of ice. "That was one of your major issues with us, right? Our finances. You don't have to worry about that with Castle."

Kate gripped the wheel tighter as she watched the traffic ahead of them. His accusation made her want to shower, but she would not dignify it with a response.

"He gave you money to pay of the credit card, right?" Kate's upper lip twitched and Paul continued. "I'm not an idiot, Kate. I thought it was your parents at first, but Castle's pockets are deeper."

Fortunately, just a minute later they arrived at her new apartment complex. She got out of the car, slammed the car door behind her and walked around to the back seat. When she saw Paul climb out of the passenger side, she held up both hands to stop him. "You know what, Paul? I think you should just wait in the car; I got this."

With absolute fury burning through her veins, Kate unloaded the last of her boxes from the car. Suddenly, as she carried each box up to her second story temporary home, it became very clear. Of course Paul volunteered to help her move out of the goodness of his heart. More like he volunteered to help her move so he could pick at her and attempt to make her feel bad about her budding romance. Her! The one _not_ having obnoxiously loud sex with one of her students!

Once the last box tucked was under her arm, Kate slammed the keys into Paul's open palm. "Goodbye, Paul; have a nice life."

As she walked away from him, she could hear him calling out something unpleasant, but she ignored it; she didn't have listen to him anymore.


	21. Chapter 21

**Twenty-one**

Adjusting the strap of her oversized purse, Kate hurried through O'Hare's busy terminal dragging a carry-on bag with a wonky wheel behind her. When she reached the arrivals and departures board, her eyes scanned for a flight arriving from Newark. As she was arriving before him, they had agreed she would meet him at his gate.

When Castle first posed the idea of spring break in Chicago two weeks earlier, Kate was skeptical. Speeding a long weekend together seemed to be a way of rocket launching them from friends-slash-quasi-dating right into full blown relationship territory. Castle explained that he saw her concern, but his reasoning was multi-pronged.

First, the Chicago stop on his book tour aligned perfectly with the University of Illinois' spring break. This, he explained, was kismet. Second, while he enjoyed their texts, phone calls, and video chats, they simply weren't the same as being able to see each other in the flesh. He said the thought of not being able to hold her in his arms for over two more months was absolute torture. And, really, who was she to argue with that? Finally, he said she had no excuse because he was buying her a plane ticket whether she liked it or not.

Once she found the right gate, Kate hurried to the adjoining terminal of the expansive airport. OUpon arrival she only needed to wait twenty minutes before his plane landed. Excitement building in her gut, she realized she had the opportunity to meet him at the gate rather than at the baggage area—a true rarity in the post 9/11 world.

As Castle flew in first class, he was one of the first to disembark the plane. His eyes lit up when he saw Kate, and he hurried over to give her a kiss. "Ready for our long weekend?" he asked.

"Absolutely," she responded.

Really, they should have called it an extra-long weekend as they arrived in the Windy City Wednesday afternoon and did not plan to leave until Sunday. This was, in part, because the majority of Castle's Friday was taken up by the book signing for _Code Cracker_, which had just celebrated its fifth week atop the best seller list. In addition, there would be a Chicago book launch party, which he would be attending with Kate.

With their carry-on bags in tow, they made their way down to the baggage claim area where Black Pawn had a limousine waiting to take Castle to his suite at the Four Seasons. Naturally, Kate teased him the whole way there for his celebrity lifestyle. When they arrived at the posh hotel, the desk manager apologized profusely, stating that Castle's room was not quite ready yet. He offered them complimentary champagne—even a complimentary meal as they waited, but Castle refused, saying they would simply explore the city.

Leaving their bags at the hotel, Kate and Castle went for a walk. Fortunately, it was a warmer than average March day and while they needed coats they were not too chilly as long as they stayed in the sun. While Castle had been to the city many times, Kate never had, and he welcomed the role of tour guide.

As they walked, Kate observed him a state of awe. He was, in a word, incredible. His storytelling abilities were clearly well above average (not that she expected any less of him), but it was more than that. He spoke of architecture and the histories of random buildings drawn from the deep pool of knowledge he possessed. Granted, sprinkled throughout were more than a few Castle jokes, but she didn't mind those at all.

"Ah," he said shortly after four when he pulled his phone from his pocket. "They texted me; our room is ready. So what do you want to do? Our dinner reservations aren't until seven so we could walk around and-"

"I think we should go back to the hotel room now," she said.

He looked at her confused at first, but upon sight of her burning gaze he her caught her implication. They would not be returning to watch TV or even take a nap, though he imagined the bed still would get quite a bit of use. "Kate, if you-"

She cut him off with her lips against his; there wasn't one doubt in her mind.

* * *

"It's almost six," Castle said as he gazed at the clock on the nightstand, his voice heavy with sleep and sex.

Kate "hmm-ed" gently from her napping position on his chest.

Castle dropped a kiss onto her head and skimmed his fingers across the bare flesh on her back. "Do you want to take a shower before we go?"

"Mmm, I don't want to move."

"Well," he considered her suggestion. After all, he was very easily persuaded by beautiful, naked women. "We could cancel the reservation and-"

"Isn't this supposed to be the best restaurant in the city?" she asked as she reluctantly pushed herself into a semi-sitting position. He nodded. "Then I guess we should go."

She placed several kisses onto his chest before reluctantly sliding from him. "I'll be quick," she said over her shoulder. She grabbed the toiletry case from her suitcase on the way to the bathroom. Once inside, she twisted her hair into a knot at the nape of her neck and secured it with a large clip. She stepped into the giant two-person shower in the suite and cranked the water on hot.

As she soaped her face and torso, Kate skimmed her hands across flesh, remembering not two hours earlier when Castle's hands and lips had traveled the same path. A large smile flooded her face at the memories and, despite her best efforts, she could not make it disappear. Making love to Castle had put the phrase "worth the wait" to absolute shame. In fact, the term "life changing" felt more appropriate.

When she agreed to the weekend getaway, she knew full well they would end up making love at one point during the trip. She was alright with that. In fact, she would go as far as to say she welcomed it. Had she planned on doing it within the first four hours of their arrival? Not entirely, but she certainly wasn't complaining. It seemed the perfect way to begin what was going to be a very interesting weekend.

* * *

For Kate, Friday was by far the most interesting day of the trip as it was the day of the _Code Cracker_ book signing and launch party. Castle informed her that she did not need to attend the signing event with him, but she insisted. This was part of his life and she was determined to see the whole thing from a front row seat.

Castle's signing was to begin at one p.m., which meant they did not arrive at the downtown bookstore until nearly twelve-thirty. As they approached, from the back of their chauffeured black SUV, Kate could see the line of people begin several blocks from the bookstore entrance. Her jaw dropped as they passed the throngs of people waiting for Castle's signature. She had seen book signings before, of course—they happened all the time in New York—but somehow it seemed more amazing when she was seated beside the main attraction.

They were taken in through a side entrance to the store and ushered into a room that turned out to be the employee's break room. There, the store manager greeted Castle with a hearty handshake. He introduced her as Dr. Kate Beckett and she shook the man's hand before being introduced to the female assistant manager, who seemed a bit frazzled still from meeting the famous writer.

Fifteen minutes later, the Black Pawn representative arrived. He was a dark skinned man who appeared as though he had an extra dozen cups of coffee that morning due to his jumpy behavior and rapid speech. With all parties on site, the manager ushered them out into the main area of the store. A signing area had been set up for Castle; it consisted of a large table stacked high with his novel on either side of which was a cardboard cutout: one of Castle himself and the other of the cover page for _Code Cracker_.

Kate alternated watching the signing and chuckling to herself when a particularly overzealous fan came through the line and wandering around the store. Given her affinity for literature, Kate always felt at home in a book store. She could browse shelves for hours, continually in search of something new and interesting to read.

Shortly before five that evening they were on the way back to their hotel to change for the book launch party. As they drove, Kate expressed her amazement that Castle was able to speak to so many people without going crazy. From her perspective as an introvert, such a task seemed downright impossible, but Castle said he didn't mind. He would not have wanted to do that every day, but he enjoyed meeting his fans, especially since many of them were very gracious.

The book launch party was being held at a swanky downtown Asian-fusion bistro. They arrived in Castle's preferred "fashionably late" window and were immediately greeted by the Black Pawn rep from earlier that day. He took them around the room, making introductions where Castle introduced his date as, "my girlfriend, Kate."

When he initially said it, she was almost caught off guard. It was the first time he referred to her in such a way, but that didn't mean she was unhappy about it. In fact, it made her very happy. Once again, she was in a relationship, except this one could not have been more different than the last.

The party went much later into the night than Kate would have preferred and, as a result, she and Castle slept in the next morning. They went to a late brunch but were quickly forced to change their afternoon plans when a rain storm moved in. Neither of them seemed to mind, though, as it gave them an excuse to stay in their hotel room—specifically, in the bed—on their last day together in Chicago.

The next morning it was still raining, making Kate even more reluctant to get out of bed, but her flight left before lunchtime so she knew she needed to get up and shower so she could finish packing. When she felt her bed companion moving beside her signaling that he was awake, she slid towards the bed's edge and sat up. Fighting a yawn, she placed her toes down on the floor and moved to stand when she groaned, "Oh my god."

"What?" Castle asked sleepily.

Kate gave a half amused, half surprised laugh as she skimmed her fingertips over her hips. "I'm kinda sore."

He looked at her curiously. "From last night?"

"I guess." She took a few steps over to her luggage and discovered a few more aching muscles. Looking back at him she asked, "Am I supposed to be this sore?"

He smirked. "Sure; it means we did it right."

Kate rolled her eyes on her way to the shower. If that was doing it right, then she had most assuredly been doing it wrong for her entire life. Then again, maybe that was exactly what had happened.

As her lengthy relationship with Paul began while she was still in her early-mid-twenties, Kate had not had too many experiences with different men. Aside from her first time (with a chain-smoking guitar player which, in hindsight, had been a very bad idea), none of them had been very memorable. As for her intimate relationship with Paul, she always thought it was fine—not awful, not mind-blowing or acrobatic, but simply fine.

They were comfortable with each other; they knew each other well. She realized that over the years their couplings had become more predictable, more routine, but that didn't make them bad. She merely accepted that fact as the natural progression of a relationship. And then, there was Castle.

Castle was, in a word, different. As it was new and fraught with months of sexual tension their evenings together had been exciting and passionate. Yet it was more than that. Castle was a more attentive lover than she'd ever had, not only caring about her needs but seemingly enthusiastic about them as well. Also, in just a short period of time, they'd somehow managed to reach the perfect balance between cuddling and retreating for more comfortable sleep, which she greatly appreciated.

As she continued to review their prior night together with a satisfied inner smile, Kate was surprised when two hands gripped her waist and joined her under the shower spray. She spun around in his arms and looked at him warningly. "What are you doing?"

"It's a two person shower; I'm just using it for its intended purpose," he defended innocently.

"Sure," she said in a tone that made it clear she didn't believe him. She watched him for a moment as he suds his hair with the hotel provided shampoo and then she said, "Castle, I need to thank you."

He gazed over at her as he rinsed his hair. "For great sex?"

"No," she chuckled. "Well, yes, it was great, but no, that's not what I'm thanking you for."

"Thanks for clarifying," he winked.

"I'm being serious. I need to thank you for being so patient with me. I'd been with Paul so long…ending that relationship was already a hard transition. I needed some time for me, and I'm really glad you gave it to me."

Touched, he leaned down and gave her lips a quick peck. "Well, as I've said before, Kate—you're worth the wait." She smiled at him. "Now, if you don't mind, please spin around for me."

"Why?!" she asked with complete confusion.

"Because if we're not going to see each other again until May I have to memorize what you look like naked."

"Richard Castle!" she scolded, slapping him on the arm with a wet washcloth.

He recoiled though he was laughing. "What? C'mon! I was serious!"

* * *

_A/N:_ _Okay, guys, as I said there are only 22 chapters, so that makes the next one the last, but I forgot to mention there's an epilogue too, so technically you'll get two more updates :)_


	22. Chapter 22

**Twenty-two**

Fortunately for Kate, the semester seemed to be passing at record speed. One they returned from spring break, she felt she hardly had a chance to breathe—and grade a few dozen papers—before April was upon them. Overall, she found the students in her spring semester to be more dedicated and more attentive than the ones in fall. Then again, it was entirely possible that the fall semester students were merely just panicking because for the majority of them it was their first college experience ever.

During her last class on a Thursday afternoon, Kate remained focused on the Power Point presentation on the screen at the front of the classroom. It was the third time that day she was giving the same speech and she had learned from prior experience that she needed to pay particularly close attention on the third go around less she forget to make important points—points that would appear on future exams.

When she turned back around, she addressed the class and asked if anyone had any questions. Typically, in the room full of freshmen, she received one question at most. Two, on a good day. That afternoon, much to her pleasant surprise, three hands rose. One, a girl in the front row, a second hand a few rows back on the far left side, and the final hand in the back row of the fifty-seat lecture hall.

Kate did a double take when she saw the grinning mug of her boyfriend staring back at her, his hand calmly raised. She assumed he snuck in while she faced the projector screen and thus he'd done so unnoticed. After taking a moment to recover from the shock of seeing him, Kate took both student's questions in turn.

After she answered the second question, she began making her closing remarks for the class, but was interrupted by an obnoxious throat clearing from the back row. "Excuse me, Professor? I have a question."

"I know and I'm ignoring you," she responded, not even looking at him. At this unexpected response, a few students turned around and craned their heads to see whose inquiry was shut down by their no-nonsense educator.

"Please Dr. Beckett?" he continued. "It's a good one; I promise."

Pursing her lips together, she flicked her eyes in his direction. His grin was impossibly wide and as cheeky as she'd ever seen it; it made her want to hit him. Collecting herself as best she could, she said, "Yes, Mr. Castle?"

Castle put his hand down and adjusted his suit jacket. By that time, about half the students in the room were looking his way. "Is there," he began, "a hottest literature teacher of the year award? And how can I nominate you for it?"

The room filled with sniggers as the students' attention turned back to Kate. She pressed her lips together tightly, finding it nearly impossible not to smile even though she was very annoyed with him. "Are you through, now?"

"That," he said, standing from his seat and walking to the front of the room, "is a very serious question, Professor." He stopped just a foot from her and the corners of her lips began to curl upwards.

"Is he your husband?" one of the female students called out.

Kate's eyes shot in the direction of the voice. "I'm not married."

"Not yet," Castle clarified.

"Hey, I know who you are," a red-headed girl in the front row said. "You're Richard Castle! My mom and I love your books!"

Castle smiled at the girl, who reminded him very much of Alexis. "Thank you."

"Are you through interrupting my class now?" Kate asked her boyfriend, her tone showing the hint of annoyance.

"Oh, I don't know." Castle paced the front of the room, observing the students, who were for the most part enthralled with whatever was unfolding before them. "They kinda seem like they need a distraction. Power Point?" He scrunched his nose and looked at her. "Did you learn nothing from my book? Spice it up a bit. How about…a sword fight?" He unsheathed an invisible sword from his belt and pretended to duel; several boys in the room cheered.

"Sword fights are not learning tools," she responded simply. "We are also not discussing medieval literature."

"What are you discussing?"

She folded her arms over her chest. "The importance of setting, which you would have known if you paid attention to the Power Point," she added pointedly.

"Ah, setting." He turned towards the students and held his hands out before him. "A very important tool. Because where would a sword fight be more exciting? In a classroom with your teacher glaring at you?" He paused to give the students and unpleasant expression; a chuckle went through the room.

"OR!" He continued, grabbing Kate by the waist and pulling her into his arms. "At the edge of a cliff where two opponents are dueling for their lady love." Though she attempted to push out of his grasp he held her firm while pretending to duel with his free hand. A moment later, he released her, planted both hands on his hips and nodded. "Yeah, I definitely need to put a sword fight in my next book."

"What's it going to be about?" one of the students asked.

"I'm not sure yet," he confessed, "but I have some ideas. Any other questions?"

"Castle!" Kate scolded.

He gazed at her, nonplused. "What? I thought your class was nearly over?"

"Well, clearly," she said with a flippant gesture. The second he opened his mouth she had clearly lost the attention of her students and with only a few minutes left in their class period there was no sense attempting to reign them back in.

After a few minutes of questions for the writer, students began filing out of the classroom. Castle posed for a few pictures including a selfie with the girl who'd said she and her mother enjoyed his books. Once they were alone, Castle walked over to Kate with an innocent smile. "You're not mad at me, are you?"

She shook her head, amusement playing on her lips. "No. I'm a little annoyed, though."

"I wanted to surprise you."

"And you did."

He leaned down and kissed her. "Hi."

"Hi." She echoed. "What are you doing here?"

He shrugged. "I was bored and I missed you so I thought I'd come for the weekend. Are you done for the day?"

She shook her head. "Actually, no. I have office hours until five."

Castle informed her that was fine; he would merely explore the campus since he had been unable to do that the last—and only—time he visited. He walked with her to her office on the next floor up so that he knew where to meet her, and then ventured off on his own.

Using a campus map he retrieved via his phone, Castle wandered throughout the campus, observing different buildings and checking his phone to see what they were used for. He attempted to visit the library, but without a student or faculty ID was unable to get past the lobby. In the student center, he found a coffee shop and decided to get himself a mid-afternoon jolt of caffeine.

The whole time he waited in line, he felt the peculiar sensation that someone was watching him. As a famous writer, this was not an uncommon occurrence. He often time encountered double-takes and strange 'Is that really him?' type stares. Somehow, though, this felt different.

When he took his cup to the side of the counter to add a few sugar packets, he felt someone approach and stand unnaturally close to him. Castle looked at the man and probably would not have recognized him if it weren't for the intense gaze. In fact, it was more than intense; it was downright piercing. Then it hit him; Paul. Of course in on a campus of thousands he would run into the one he was trying to avoid.

"If I wasn't such a gentlemen," Paul began, "I would hit you."

Castle thought of half a dozen retorts to this statement, many of them sarcastic, but out of respect for Kate, he spoke none of them aloud. He was not going to stoop to Paul's level and provoke a confrontation. He attempted to stop around the man, but Paul stopped with him, blocking his path. Castle sighed heavily and met the man's gaze. "I didn't take her from you, Paul; you lost her," he said simply. With that, he left.

The rest of Castle's exploration was almost entirely uneventful and, at the end of Kate's office hours, he escorted her to his rental car and she directed him to her apartment. Before she even pulled her keys from her purse she said, "Yeah, um, this might not work."

"Why?" he asked with a laugh. The moment she opened the door, Castle found his answer.

Kate's apartment was empty. Almost literally empty. A TV sat on the floor in front of one wall. The kitchen held a narrow table with a bar stool on either end and in the corner of the main room sat one chair. Other than that, the space contained only a few boxes. "Oh my god," he proclaimed. "You've been robbed!"

Kate laughed. "No I haven't."

"Then where the hell is your stuff!?" he gasped.

She shrugged. "This is it. I knew I was leaving so I didn't want to get a ton of furniture or anything—there's no point in that."

Castle spun and glared at her. "Tell me Paul kept all the future."

She shrugged. "I didn't mind; he's the one with the house."

"Did you at least get a….air mattress," his voice fell when he gazed into the bedroom.

Kate cringed. "Yeah, that's the problem."

Castle threw his hands up and walked back towards the apartment door. "Pack a bag," he told her. "We're going to a hotel."

She laughed in disbelief. "What? Why?"

"Because we are not not having sex and we aren't doing it on that," he said, stabbing a finger towards the bedroom.

"There's always the floor," she suggested with a shrug.

Castle shut his eyes and held a hand up, his expression indicating a feeling of nausea. "I'm not even going to dignify that with a response."

Kate couldn't help but giggle at how serious he was being. "Castle, it's not that bad."

He opened his eyes. "You're right. It's not that bad; it could be much worse. If I was still in my twenties I'd probably be game for it, but you know what? I'm forty years old now, and I have a lot of money, which means I'm not sleeping on an air mattress. Or the floor."

She nodded. "That's fair."

He smiled. "Glad you see it my way."

* * *

After a short but enjoyable weekend together, Kate was left alone for the final five weeks of the semester. By the time the middle of May arrived and Kate had graded her last final paper, she was completely exhausted and more than ready for a break. Unfortunately, she still needed to move her belongings back to the east coast before she could rest.

Throughout the spring semester, Kate continually applied for jobs in Manhattan and the surrounding areas. She even looked for open positions in publishing, desperate to get something—anything—that would pay her and was remotely in her field. In the end, she was able to secure two part time teaching positions at local schools, neither of which would make her rich, but at least they were paying jobs.

Since she was once again on her own, her parents graciously agreed to allow her to stay with them for the first few months of summer until she was able to secure a place of her own to live. Castle's contribution was to pay for her to ship all her belongings to her parents' home so that she did not have to rent a car or U-Haul and make the long drive solo.

Kate was hardly back in Manhattan a day before Castle picked her up in his Mercedes and whisked her away towards his home in Southampton. She laughed at the idea at first, never truly expecting him to keep the date they made before Christmas, but he insisted; he was a man of his word.

Pulling up in front of his beachfront estate, Kate lost all of hers; she was speechless. She never anticipated such a sprawling—and beautiful—home. He unloaded their bags as she wandered, jaw-gaping, around the first floor of the home. From there, Castle took over the tour, showing her each themed bedroom and finally leading her out onto the porch and his private beach.

"This is incredible, Castle; truly," she told him as they walked hand-in-hand towards the surf.

"So you won't mind spending the weekend here then?"

She laughed. "Are you kidding? Can I stay here forever?" He smiled at her. "Really, Castle; I love it."

"And I love you," he said simply.

Her lips parted as she gazed at him, stunned. She had not been expecting him to say it. From him she expected a bit more flare, more drama, but this worked too. It was simple, pure. Easy. Just like her feelings for him (once she'd stopped denying them, of course). "I love you, too," she responded.

He pulled her in for a sweet kiss before grabbing her hand as they walked down the beach. Together.

* * *

_A/N: Epilogue will be posted SATURDAY! :)_


	23. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

_One Year Later_

Kate Beckett awoke and stretched her legs out with a groan. Her toes bumped against the shins of her bed companion and she smiled gently to herself. With her eyes still closed, she rolled on to her back and raised her hand to rub her face as she yawned. In doing so, she felt a peculiar resistance.

Opening her eyes, Kate discovered a brown string tied around her wrist. Utterly confused, she flipped her hand over so that the back of it faced her, then the palm, and then back again. The string tugged lightly at her wrist as she made the movement. Knowing there could be only one responsible party, she rolled her head towards the center of the bed and found him gazing at her.

"Morning."

She blinked at him. "It's too early for bondage."

He laughed. "You're probably right, but that's not what this is."

She pushed herself up so that she was half upright, propping herself with her elbows. "What's going on?"

"I've arranged a little scavenger hunt for you this morning," he explained.

Kate groaned and flopped down against the pillow. "Castle, I just woke up."

"I know and you can take a minute if you need, but I promise this is totally worth it."

She eyed him suspiciously. "You promise?"

He used his index finger to draw an X over his heart. "Promise."

With a heavy sigh she submitted to his plan. In the little more than a year that they'd been together, she'd witnessed many a brilliant Castle scheme, some of them ending better than others. She hoped this was one of the ones that ended better.

Kate flipped the sheets off her body and scooted to the edge of the mattress. She leaned forward to grab her pajamas from the chair beside her bed only to be yanked back by her wrist. She turned around and gave her boyfriend a dangerous look.

"Ah right, sorry," he said, quickly untying her. "You'll definitely want to put clothes on for this; you'll be going outside."

"Great," she grunted as she pulled on her pajamas and robe. Once she was dressed, Castle handed her the tied end of twine that had been around her wrist and gave her the simple instructions to follow the trail. With one more skeptical look in his direction, she obliged.

Immediately outside the master bedroom, Kate found the string was tied to another doorway in the hall. She un-looped it from the doorknob and noticed along with the knot was a tiny keychain with Black Pawn's logo. Her brow wrinkled as she held up the key ring and, not knowing what else to do with it, dropped it in the pocket of her robe.

The string continued to the top of the stairs where, hooked to the string with a paperclip, was a small printed out picture of _Code Cracker_'s cover. At the bottom of the stairs, the string contained a tiny cut out of the state of Illinois. Still confused, Kate followed the string towards the front of the house.

When she reached the front door, she discovered a tiny picture of a Campbell's chicken and rice soup can. That's when it hit her. The string contained the timeline of a story; their story.

Outside, the memories continued. She found a Christmas tree, a bloody hatchet, a Happy New Year sticker, and the printed word Chicago. She followed the string from the front door, past the garage, through the pool area and all the way to the back porch. Back inside, the kitchen string contained seashells from the Hamptons beach, a picture of a jelly fish from their first vacation together, during which Castle was stung by the sea creature.

As she wound through the formal dining room she found the cover art for his second book to feature the CIA Agent and Professor duo, _Silver Bullet_, and one adhesive bandage. That item stumped her for a moment until she remembered Castle's brainwave of strip laser tag from the prior winter. He'd attempted to dive on the couch, slid off, and crashed into the coffee table, breaking all the tchotchkes on it and giving himself a nasty gash in the back that required several stiches. (Naturally, the three females in his life teased him about the event for weeks.)

Finally, the trail of memories led Kate back where she started: the master bedroom. The end of the string was tied around the door knob and the door was shut. She went to open it, but found the door locked. Confused, she knocked.

Castle opened the door a crack—just wide enough for her to see one of his blue eyes. She folded her arms over her chest and looked at him, bemused. "All that? All that just to bring me back here?"

He shook his head. "No, all of that to get you out of the bedroom so I could do this."

With that, he opened the door wide enough for her to step inside. Kate's eyes widened as the scene came in to view. The room had been filled with dozens of candles, all of which were lit and giving off a warm vanilla scent. He'd covered the bed in rose petals and tossed some on the floor for good measure.

On the chest of drawers across from the bed, the collection of candles grew thicker and several long stem roses lay across the top of the chest. Propped against the wall was a frame filled with tiny sea shells. As she drew closer, she realized the tiny sea shells were organized such that they spelled out words. Two words to be exact. The two words and a tiny misshapen question mark read: Marry me?

Kate covered her mouth with her hands as she stared at the frame, hardly believing this was happening.

She could not honestly say she was shocked about the proposal. A few weeks earlier, they had taken a long weekend and gone to Martha's Vineyard. There, in a quaint bed and breakfast, they'd woken together and he'd asked her how she would feel about waking up that way every morning, forever. Her heart swelling in her chest, she casually replied that she was open to the idea.

Truth be told, she knew Castle was the man she would marry from the first summer they spent together as a couple and his question merely confirmed her suspicions. From that point, she had been looking for signs of him progressing their relationship, though, quite frankly, she'd expected him to ask her to move in with him first, which she would have gladly done, but this…this was unexpected.

"Oh Castle," she sighed out finally, turning around to see him kneeling and holding out a gorgeous diamond ring.

"Kate-"

"YES!" she proclaimed, not even letting him say another word. She dropped to the ground and smothered him with a kiss. Castle held her close and then slipped the ring on her finger at the first opportunity.

"So you're surprised?" he asked proudly.

She nodded and brushed a few tears from her cheeks. "Very! How did you do all of that? With the string?"

"Ah well I already had all the items tied on, I just had to string it…which I did by flashlight at about three thirty this morning," he added with a laugh. She laughed too and kissed him again. "I love you, Kate."

Holding onto his cheeks she rested their foreheads together and said, "I love you, too."

* * *

_A/N: First and foremost-thank you all so much for reading this story and thank you for each of your reviews! I really appreciate the time you take to do that, so thank you very much!_

_Second - a small confession. Paul is (very loosely) based on a real person I know-a college professor who I (not shockingly) dislike so reading all the reviews about how much you guys hate him and how terrible he is, etc do make me chuckle!_

_Third - Good news and bad news. I do have another story in the works. It will be called **Truth or Dare** but so far I have only one chapter written and I have no estimate for when it will be posted. Before December? That's the best guess I can give you. Until then, enjoy Castle Season 7 and thank you so much for reading!_


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